The Cobwebs Of His Imagination
by Unsaid Goodbyes
Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.
1. Prologue: The Beginning

A/N: Here's a new, wacky idea that came to my head (Did I just sound like Catherine Hardwicke there?) It's a bit of a long shot, and I might not finish it. I don't know. It comes and goes, but I do like the idea for this story. It came to me in a day dream—I have those a lot—while I was listening to _The Bird and the Worm _by **The Used**. So, enjoy…

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

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**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Authors: **Breathless Tomb

Prologue

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

--

He wasn't somebody most people overlooked. He stood out like a sore thumb. Whether that be bad or good, he didn't care to find out. All he knew was that he'd forever be stuck in the hell-hole of being trampled on and pushed around. Quite literally, he was the brunt of every joke, the biggest laugh of all the budding flowers of Forks High. He was hated and disrespected more than _anyone_ else.

It killed him.

He'd taken to hiding in his own personal shell, too afraid to stick up for himself. He hated himself more than any other child possibly could. He thought of himself as a _coward_, a _wimp_, someone too disgusting to possibly deserve even a fraction of love—be it amorous or friendly. Even his loving, doting parents didn't what to do with him, as they could see that he'd lost all hope for himself.

He was a failure in his eyes.

Edward Cullen. A name snickered at whenever heard. He could hear the whispers stop whenever he stepped into a room, and quickly start up again once he'd left. It was not a lie nor an exaggeration to say that he'd _never_ had a friend. He was not like other victims of group isolation and merciless harassment. He hadn't ever been once well-liked or popular. There hadn't been a time in his life when he hadn't been ridiculed for something or sneered at in the hallway. He was lucky in that way. He didn't have anything to compare it to.

It had started on probably his second day of kindergarten. He'd come to school that day in a bright mood—his mother had packed him his favourite lunch that day. After placing his lunch-box in his personal cubby, he'd gone off to play by himself, waiting for class to start. Come time to eat, Edward was horrified to discover that his entire lunch had been emptied into the trash. Holding back tears, little five-year old Edward quietly asked the teacher to go to the bathroom. He spent the rest of the hour crying his eyes out in one of the stalls.

It wasn't long before this became a regular tradition. Edward tried to take extra precautions to protect his things, but it seemed like the others always found a way to thwart his every attempt. Edward positively refused to ask anyone for help, practically hiding his face in shame when his parents finally did take it upon themselves to call the teacher.

The bullying was put to rest for his kindergarten year, but it only came back even stronger the next year. At first, all he felt was fury, not understanding why the kids _his own age_ would pick on him for no reason at all. He'd never done anything to them. Although he'd never gone out of his way to befriend them, he'd never been purposely rude to them. But, slowly, it began to sink in, and he began to realize just _why he_ was always the underdog.

He was weak.

And slowly, without even his awareness, his anger towards the others began to turn on himself. He began to despise himself with every fiber in his body. He couldn't stand to look at himself in the mirror. He wouldn't allow anyone to get close to him…not that anyone even tried, of course. He shut himself into a dark corner of his mind, letting the cobwebs of his imagination spread across the very chasms of his essence, letting the windows to his soul rot and break away.

Though the bullying was as juvenile as ever, even twelve years later, it still hurt as bad as the very first day, when his younger self stared appalled into the trashcan, not comprehending _anything_, except for the fact that the thing he'd always _dreaded_—which was, not fitting in—was finally coming a reality. He still hadn't thought of a reason why he'd been subjected to such a torturous child—and teenage—life. He still wasn't even sure if he _wanted_ to know.

Little did he know that his saviour would come in the form of one Isabella Swan, and little did he know the consequences that would follow.

--

A/N: Well, that's the end of the prologue. I know it's short, but it's meant to be that way. I'm just trying to give a general insight into _why_ Edward is so miserable. You have to be able to emphasize with him before you can read the story and understand why he suddenly morphs into such a…well, you'll see. ;)

I'll have a few more prologues to new stories I'm starting up soon. Today is a day to publish a lot of new stories. I'm kind of tired of letting them sit around, so to heck with it. I'll post 'em all.

--Breathless Tomb--


	2. Chapter 1: The Question

A/N: You might notice that in this story, I use the metaphor of "cobwebs" a lot. Every chapter will have a reference to cobwebs. I will be updating each story slowly, but I wish to complete them all by at least the middle of 2010, maybe even by New Years. Depends how much energy I put into this. This story contains a bit of angst in the beginning, but it will get better. My stories don't generally have tragic endings. Maybe morbid, but not sad. So, onto the chapter…

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

--

**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Authors: **Breathless Tomb

Chapter 1

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

--

The normalcy of the situation was what hurt him the most. The fact that he didn't even feel the need to blink an eye when Mike and his cronies began the hateful jeers and the spit-balls during class. Edward merely sighed, hunching into himself and doing his best to continue copying his notes from the board. The teacher—as incompetent as he was—remained oblivious, drawling out facts and figures at a speed far too slow to be considered adequate.

He sat at the front of the classroom, in the middle of the three rows. The seat beside him held the sad wisp of nothingness, a reminder of his isolation. No one dared to sit at _his_ table, the social climbers they all were. Mike and the others—namely Eric and Jessica, surrounded by a few other expendable followers—sat at the back of the room, their undivided attention focused solely on Edward.

He felt the little wet pricks hit the back of his head. Grimacing, Edward did his best to ignore it. _I'll head to the bathroom right after this class_, he tried to console himself, _there's no need to be bothered by these buffoons_. He sighed in exasperation, pushing his thick, black-rimmed glasses up his nose. His mind was swirling with his thoughts and plaguing peeves. He was shaking with embarrassment, hearing the other muffled sniggers from his classmates. They didn't care enough to be bothered sticking up for him.

No one did.

Edward felt torn—as if he were made up of two different people. There was one, his good side. The side that kept him down, telling him not to worry, that everything would be alright one day. Then, there was his other side. His furious side. The part of him that was _screaming_ at him to fight back, telling him that he didn't deserve this treatment. But, his subdued side was by far more dominant over him, numbing him to the pain.

That wasn't to say he didn't feel everything he'd been through. Even now, his face was flushed a dark, burning red, and tears prickled at the very backs of his eyes. His writing was nowhere near as neat as it usually was, the resulting affects of his rage. _What a perfect way to make a serial killer_, Edward thought bitterly, _all they need to do is push me a little further, and then they'll have a school shooting on their hands_. But even thinking these terrifying thoughts, Edward knew he could never so much as yell back at the students. He didn't have it in him.

As soon as the bell rang, Edward was up and out of his seat, dashing out the door. The last thing he was aware of before the shame fully took him over, was Mike's obnoxious and boisterous laughter, ringing through the air. He could feel the burning stares and amused eyes of everyone in the hallway as he headed for the bathroom. _I'm older than you_, his mind screamed at some obscenely entertained freshman, _respect your elders_.

Though he knew this was only wishful thinking. Even some of the teachers and faculty members were treating him with the same disrepute as the students did. There were a rare handful of children who _were_ polite to him, but it was a distant politeness. They didn't have it in them to taunt and tease him, but they didn't have it in them to try and reach out for him either. It was courtesy, but it never extended beyond that.

The reflection in the mirror of the bathroom was enough to make him hurl. There were little bits of moist white paper sticking to the back of his tousled bronze hair. He ran his hand through his hair, wincing in disgust as a bunch of the spit-balls clung to his fingers. He picked them out one by one. Edward was unbelievably thankful it was only the start f lunch though, as none of the boys bothered to enter the bathroom.

He walked to his locker a little more confidently—which wasn't much, as his confidence had already been smashed and torn apart by the careful, plotting hands of one Mike Newton. His spray-painted locker wasn't easy to miss. Bright, bubblegum pink letters were fading across his locker, the door dented in a bit. He unlocked it quickly, pulling out his backpack and slamming the door shut.

The only upside to being seventeen was that seniors were allowed off campus during lunch. He completely disregarded his car, choosing to walk instead. The farther he got though, the more he began to realize how stupid his decision had been. The clouds began to darken, and it wasn't long before it was pouring. Edward glanced back, but he could no longer see the school now, just the friendly painted doors of the sprawling houses, the windows closed and the blinds pulled shut.

He must've looked ridiculous, with his black and red backpack and soaked clothes. The random onlookers stared at him with disdain and hilarity. To them, he was a walking side-show. The familiar sight of the small, cracked-windowed restaurant was slightly comforting, if anything. He pushed the swinging door open, allowing the warm air to wrap around him like a cocoon, seducing him to the thoughts of just staying there forever.

The restaurant owner took one look at him before reaching under the counter, throwing him a dry, fluffy green towel. Edward caught it on the tips of his fingers, smiling gratefully at the owner.

"Go dry off in the bathroom," The owner said with pity in his eyes, "It's over there." He pointed off to the back of the restaurant, where the darkness embraced the corners and walls, and the lights remained unlit in rows until they disappeared into the blackness. Edward smiled wider.

"Thanks," He sighed. The owner merely grunted in reply, which effectively wiped the smile off Edward's face. _Of course the kindness would have to end at some point_, Edward thought with malice, watching the owner graciously welcome the next two customers, without a hint of the mild he'd shown Edward. It was typical, not something he was surprised to see. But, all the same, it hurt.

He didn't know what to do.

All he knew was that he wanted out.

***

The day ended quickly for what seemed like forever. The rain was still pouring down in buckets, the sad ending to an already miserable day. Edward was shaking the entire drive home, whether from anger or embarrassment, he still had yet to figure out. Maybe a bit of both? How was he to know? Who was he to _care?_ It was brutal, listening to his inane, running thoughts, going around in circles in his head.

His parents weren't waiting for him when he got home. His father Carlisle's car was in the driveway, but neither him nor Esme—Edward's mother—bothered to greet Edward when he pulled up. His already mashed-up heart gave a little pang, but he ignored it, pushing his feelings to the side. There was an acidic taste to one of his thoughts, tantalizing and addicting him to the thought of it all _ending_. It was a toying thought that had the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Esme was cooking inside, but—though she noticed when Edward came in through the front door—she only gave him a small, forced smile. The light in Edward's eyes was eager, but it scared her. It was bright, and burning, flames licking around the iris. She couldn't understand it at all. Just the other day, Edward's eyes had been hollow shells of who he was. She had half expected to see cobwebs stringing from the edges.

But now…it was like looking at a new person.

Edward hesitated for a second before taking two long strides forward and engulfing Esme in a heart-melting hug. It shocked her, left her stunned and speechless. She…he hadn't hugged her like this in years. Her mind reeled, trying to find sense where there was none. His arms lingered before he pulled back, a relieved smile on his face. Esme's face was the picture perfect definition of bewilderment, her eyes as large and as round as dinner plates. Edward took off his glasses, placing them on the end of the kitchen counter.

"You know I love you," Edward said with a smile, "Right mom?" He could see now how simple the solution had been all along. He could've kicked himself. He was so _naïve_, so _confused_. Why hadn't he seen it before, when all along the answer had been as peaceful and as easy as sleeping? Maybe because he'd been in denial for so long. Esme nodded slowly, her expression frozen in place.

Edward took a few steps backwards, before turning and running to the stairs. As soon as his hand touched the cool, silver metal of the railing, Esme snapped out of her shock-induced coma-like state. Her heart started up furiously, ideas and blasphemy rushing through her veins. She took a step towards the staircase, her hand stretched out. One single, panicked word stopped Edward in his tracks.

"Wait!"

Edward halted his movements, raising his head but not looking back. He waited for her to speak again, though he was _oh so _eager to keep sprinting up those steps. His nerves were on fire, and for once in years he felt _alive_. Escaping. Freedom. The pure reason of self-hatred would be forever vanquished, and whatever waited for him later he could deal with. Esme cocked her head to the side, caramel curls spiralling down her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" The question was so innocent, so desperate. Edward's whole body flinched, his mind flipping over to a whole new side of what he hadn't thought of before. _Esme. Carlisle. You selfish brat_, he thought to himself, _have you always been this self-centered?_ Had he been able to move, he might've nodded. He'd always been selfish. He'd always thought of himself first.

_You liar. You egotistical liar. You never thought about yourself! Never!_

"I'm fine," He finally choked out, "Same as always." Esme seemed to accept this, calmly slipping from the room. For a few seconds, Edward stayed rooted in his spot, his eyes glued to the fragments of where Esme had been. He couldn't understand. Even though he'd wanted her to leave...he hadn't known she's give up so easily. It almost broke his heart—if he had any left.

But, eventually he trudged up the stairs to his room, quite lost in his own world. Everything passed by in a daze, his breathing, the things he saw, even his blinks. He felt nothing but a warming gust of air wrapping around him snugly. Other than that, there was nothing. Strangely, his entire world had seemed to take on a rather green-ish hue. It was like looking through a shard of glass.

Night set, and Edward was nearly ready. With shaking hands, he began to write, his emotions spilling away with each printed word. He found himself lost in the letter, letting loose everything he'd ever held close to his heart. But, he kept it short and sweet, slipping the folded note under his pillow once he'd finished. His quick green eyes flickered over to the bathroom door. His feet were quick against the carpet, letting him reach his personal bathroom in no time flat.

He leisurely opened the mirrored cabinet, his fingers wrapping lovingly around an orange bottle of sleeping pills. His fingers were trembling now, anxious yet excited all at the same time. He'd never envisioned such euphoria from such a simple plan. Never in his wildest dreams—and Edward had always had an extraordinary imagination though lately it had remained unused.

His world had always been in shades of colours, the colours shifting to suit his moods. He'd never seen the world for what it really was—filled with colours of various shades. He'd only ever known—or at least remembered—the sickening one shade of a new colour every so often. But now, holding the little bottle, he could see them. The world exploded before his eyes, forever branding this moment in his memory.

But, as soon as he went to open the bottle, something incredibly strange happened. _He couldn't force his hand to move_. He was stuck, holding the bottle in his tight fist, an overwhelming fear rippling through him. He glanced wide-eyed around the room, but everything seemed the same as before. It was _him_, not the world that had frozen. The clock still ticked on and the wind continued to blown in through the open window over the toilet.

"Maybe tomorrow," He finally said reluctantly, his body allowing him to put the bottle back in the cabinet, the feeling of dread leaving him slowly. _What had just happened?_ For that moment in time, Edward had felt a feeling so _tearing_, so _unadulterated_, that he couldn't possibly believe himself. For that moment, he'd felt that, if he'd taken the pills, he would've missed something grand, something unbelievable. There was an aching in his nearly dead heart, urging him to stop, to postpone his decision.

And he'd listened.

With an irritated sigh, Edward threw himself onto his best, still completely dressed in the clothes he'd come home in. He was dirty, he was cold, and he probably smelt something terrible, but Edward didn't care. He closed his eyes and evened out his breathing, not even realizing it when the sleep finally did claim him. His last thoughts were enough to drive him nuts, twisting and spinning trying to find an answer.

_I wonder what's going to happen…_

--

A/N: This chapter _is_ longer than the last one, but it's nowhere near as long as I wanted. I was contemplating adding more, but then I decided "I feel like spacing these events out for a little bit." So, technically, even though this wasn't a cliffie—which you're probably grateful for—I kind of cut you guys off. Oops. I'm sorry. :P

I should be updating _**Change Of Hearts**_ next or _**The Core Of Fear**_. I like this story though. A lot. I got most of the plot in my head. My stories are never very dramatic or have a huge plot, but I like them that way. So yeah. Review people! I need to know what you think of this story.

--Breathless Tomb--


	3. Chapter 2: The Daisy

A/N: Just to be clear to anyone who didn't quite understand the last chapter; yes. Edward was in fact planning on taking his life through sleeping pills. But that's not an important part of the story; it was only something leading up dramatically to the next few chapters. I'm trying to show the very depths of his self-annihilation, how far he's willing to go to rid himself of his troubles. I wanted to give Edward's character some depth; he's not a nerd. He's just a poor kid who was targeted by his peers. But this Edward is exactly like the one from **Twilight**—same looks, same everything. Anyways, onto the chapter…

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

--

**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Authors: **Breathless Tomb

Chapter 2

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

--

Edward awoke the next morning feeling rested, yet uncomfortable. His world was a greying shade of violet, though he could still feel the lingering euphoria from yesterday night. He rose from his bed, heading straight for the shower after stripping his bed of the sheets. Bemusement still reeked its way into his thoughts. Checking quickly under his pillow, he realized the note was still there, the neatly folded piece of paper. He jumped back, as if he'd been burned.

Something had to be wrong with him. He was certain. Something was medically wrong with him, ripping his mind apart. He knew he wasn't clinically sane. He knew he wasn't normal. He'd never bothered to figure out what exactly _was_ wrong with him, but he knew it was something. It was impossible not to notice. Had he been born this way or had it simply been bestowed on him along with Mike's bothersome existence? Who knew?

Esme was already downstairs by the time Edward finished dressing. She smiled at him, her eyes pleased, and Edward found it rather depressing how all he could see was the foggy purple that clouded the room. He'd long forgotten the exact shade of his mother's eyes, though he knew they were some sort of blue. He swooped over to her side, planting a saccharine kiss on her cheek. She giggled at his random display of affection.

"Good morning mom," He chirped sweetly, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Esme frowned, looking pointedly at a small plate of pancakes that she'd prepared specifically for him. Disappointment wafted into her frown. Edward noticed her gaze and smiled cheekily.

"Aren't you going to eat what I made?" She scolded, allowing her _disapproving mother_ tone to slip in. Edward chuckled, nodding his head with an eye roll.

"I will mom," Edward teased lightly; "I'm a growing boy. I need _a lot_ of food. Don't worry. I can stomach a bowl of cereal and a few pancakes. That's my forté." He winked at her, looking younger than he had in years. Esme almost looked like she might cry. Her cheeks were blooming and her eyes were glistening with her unshed tears. Unexpectedly she placed her hand under her chin, leaning against the wall beside her.

"You seem…happy," She said carefully, "Today and yesterday night. It's odd. That's not to say I'm not happy, because I most definitely am. It's just…different. But a nice different." A faint smile played on the corner of her lips, dancing and twirling with the grace of a skilled dancer, "Are you making some friends at school?"

Edward's face changed dramatically. The toying smile that had graced his features was replaced with a blank line—emotionless. His eyes died in that instant, looking off into the distance. The cobwebs touched the corners of his eyes again, the irises bleeding to black. The signs of his withdrawal were obvious to Esme, who stood there, trying to deny that everything she'd hoped and dreamed for was coming to an end. Edward looked down at his cereal, looking slightly disgusted. Throwing the remnants away, he placed the bowl in the dishwasher.

"School starts soon," He said quietly, in his familiar lifeless voice, "Sorry about the pancakes. I've…I've got to go." And he was gone, leaving Esme standing, feeling more useless than she ever had in her life, with the devastated look on her face. The single plate of pancakes sat on the place-mat, but suddenly—inexplicably—they seemed utterly repulsive, and Esme couldn't imagine anyone in the right mind who would eat one of them.

Edward felt drowned, being held under the water. The fact that he had to remind himself that it was school, was depressing. The fact that he never wanted to leave his tiny bathroom, was pathetic. He felt trapped inside his life, the ties of family nothing more than shackles bounding him to a cement wall.

The chains rattle.

The water overflows.

There's no escape.

The sins pile up.

***

Edward arrived at school exactly fifteen minutes before the bell rang. With his backpack thrown over his shoulder, and his lips stretched into a grim line, he entered the school. He was ignored—surprisingly—as he walked through the halls. Not a single student noticed him, even as he passed Tyler—another one of Mike's expendables. Edward didn't question it though. His eyes remained downcast, and his lips remained tightly closed.

But, he kept his ears ever alert. The poisonous whisperings were like acid. They swept the school, a giant wind blowing them from person to person. The acres the whispers covered was something to be admired. The sheer fortitude of the new rumours shocked Edward to his very core. _Fresh meat_. A new budding flower to join the student body. He almost felt pity for whoever it was. Who would want to live in a town of such cynics and animosity?

_Isabella Swan._

The name felt strange on his tongue. Though he knew she _was_ new, her name felt odd all the same. It tasted _sweet_ instead of the bitter tartness he'd tasted off people like Jessica Stanley. This bothered Edward. He was generally…good at reading people. Even without ever meeting them. It was something like an extra instinct in him, though it was hardly ever wrong.

Only one time.

One, singular, bloody time.

But, Edward knew to trust his intuition. This _Isabella_ character seemed to be different. But, he would wait until he saw her. Seeing her in person would give him a better judgement of who she was. As for now, he felt rather bad for this mystery girl, drawing so much attention to her. Unless that was what she wanted. If so, then he wouldn't allow himself to be bothered thinking about her anymore.

It didn't take long for Edward to see her. In fact, it was hard _not_ to notice her. She was like a daisy in a garden of weeds. Her presence terrified Edward more than relieved him. She was an alien to him; too otherworldly to consider human, or at least, not one of the humans he was accustomed to. She must've come from some far off planet; a planet that didn't have an interest in belittling and terrorizing weaker creatures.

She was kind.

She was gentle.

She wasn't real.

Edward didn't buy it. It was a trick. Her soft smiles and twinkling eyes were clear indications of an actress. He didn't believe in goodness in people. But Isabella—or Bella as she corrected people—was almost…_genuine_ in her actions, but no matter what, Edward refused to be drawn in by the silky lilt in her voice. He refused to be fooled by the delicate hands that held and touched her books and hair with. He was _no_ fool, and no one would be convinced otherwise.

He saw her for the first time in his second period Biology class. She was pretty, though not extraordinary. He'd definitely seen more attractive girls in his life, maybe even in the past month, though he couldn't deny that she _was_ easy on the eyes. But…unlike the other gorgeous girls he'd seen in his life, her eyes didn't hold the abhorrent complacency as the others did. She seemed utterly harmless, too fragile to be considered a threat.

And…the first time she met eyes with him…she _smiled_. She didn't sneer or scowl as the _others_. She gave him a little grin, her lips pulling back to expose a row of pearly teeth._ Of course, she doesn't even know me_, Edward had to remind himself internally, _to her, you're just another member of the piranhas that swim these schools_. It was true. But, the moment she met Mike or any of the _others_, she would know within _minutes_, maybe even _seconds_.

He'd been absolutely furious when the teacher had insisted that Bella sit beside him. As if he needed the added torture! Her mere existence drove him to the very depths of his never-ending flurry of ever-changing ramblings. He never knew what would happen to him, what would take him by surprise. Had he known, maybe things would've turned out differently.

Or perhaps not.

Who knew these days anyway?

He didn't talk to her. Didn't even try to strike up a conversation. He maintained a distance, painfully returning her friendly smile, but didn't go farther than that. She seemed hurt, if her eyes were any hint. But Edward didn't care. She couldn't be allowed to associate with him. For his safety _and_ hers. Would she be ostracized for talking to him? Did he want to take the chance and find out? Did he want to place her teenage-hood on the balance to fulfill his own undying curiosity?

The answer was clear.

No.

He could not—would not—allow an innocent creature such as Isabella Swan to be subjected to the torture he faced every day. How could he possibly live with himself, if every day he was destined to watch sure a pure, pretty girl be constantly detested by her peers, and tormented into a submissive punching bag?

Lunch came quickly, so fast that Edward didn't understand if the clocks were even right. He left for the restaurant again, forgoing his car for walking. The rain was light that day, something Edward was eternally appreciative for. His shoes squeaked against the cobblestone road, the sidewalk having long disappeared. Strangely enough, he seemed to hear more than just his footsteps. Looking over his shoulder, Edward groaned when he saw the dainty silhouette of Bella following him.

He sighed angrily, picking up his pace, trying to lose the tiny girl in the covering fog that was beginning to mist in from the forest. The late afternoon fogs always were the worst. But her unwavering determination never faltered, and as he continued to almost jog, so did she. He'd never seen such a small person so reluctant to give up. He wasn't sure if it was such a good thing.

He couldn't get a very good read on her. And that frightened him. It scared him more than he cared to let on. If the _others_ knew, they'd never let him live it down. Another person who'd escaped his extra sense. They would use her to their advantage, by using her to make their way to him. There was a very good reason why the bullying never went beyond the public places, where Edward couldn't run away. A reason he didn't feel like ever disclosing to Mike or any of the expendables. He could _feel_, _hear_, _understand_ their intentions. He wasn't sure how, but in some way, he knew everything.

But…Bella…was a mystery to him. Her deep, unfathomable eyes, tinted violet from the colours, were so unlike any other pair of eyes he'd ever seen. Could he say that he loved that, even though he hated it so much? To be exact, he wasn't sure _what_ he thought of her. She was incredibly sweet and warm-hearted for a _teenage_ girl, though a bit too persistent. Was she following him, or simply heading in about the same direction?

The bell rang as always as Edward pushed open the door to the restaurant, his wet shoes squealing against the linoleum. Not a minute later, a gust of cool air blew into the restaurant as the door opened again, a second pair of squeaking shoes walking up to where he was standing, waiting at the counter. Edward clenched his teeth, trying to focus solely on the tile countertop. His hands balled up into tight fists against the ash tiles, the tension filling him as he felt her presence right behind him.

"The usual son?" The owner inquired, walking up to the cash, wiping his greasy hands against a small, red rag. Edward gave a curt nod. The owner quickly punched in a few numbers on the cash register, before his eyes locked on the figure standing directly behind Edward, "…Is the lass with you?" A hint of his Scottish accent slipped out, caressing the words tenderly.

"Umm…no," Edward mumbled, avoiding eye contact by staring at the clock above the oven. He had a good half hour before he needed to make his way back to school, which usually would've pleased his immensely, but now terrified the daylights out of him. Thirty solid minutes—give or take a few minutes—spent in a tiny, cramped restaurant with the unreadable Bella Swan.

Pure, absolute, fucking torture.

The owner nodded silently, waving Edward away and switching his attention to Bella, "And what can I do for you lassie?" As Edward turned around to go sit down at a nearby table against the window, he saw a bright cerise blush blossom on Bella's face. He flinched back a fraction of an inch, surprised. He'd never in his life even seen a girl blush, only his own mother. It shocked him to his very core, though he hardly allowed his face to change. He quickly walked to the table, taking a seat.

She shouldn't be naïve enough to make the mistake of talking to him. She shouldn't have thought for one second that it would be _okay_ to try to follow Edward. He glanced out the window anxiously. Had anyone else followed her? The rain was too thick now, a jet stream of water pouring down from the sky, but he couldn't see a single shadow in the downpour. Edward heaved a sigh in respite.

"Hey there," came a congenial voice from his left. Edward's head snapped up in the direction of the pleasant voice, only to frown in mild aggravation at the petite girl. Bella weaved her way around the table, taking the seat across from him. Her smile was inviting, something that alarmed Edward greatly. She held out her hand, "Nice to meet you."

Edward stared at her hand for a moment, before rudely demanding, "Why are you here? Why are you following me?" Bella's eyes widened and her mouth fell into an o-shape. The flush that had covered her cheeks before returned, though this time her eyes held hurt instead of embarrassment. She drew her hand back slowly, looking down at the table.

"…I thought you looked lonely," She whispered quietly, "Everyone needs a friend." She seemed so wounded, that Edward almost felt the need to apologize profusely for the painful words he'd said, in such a sharp tongue.

Almost.

Instead, Edward angrily rose from his seat, hissing, "Did I ask for your help? What in the world would convince you that _I_ wanted to be friends with _you?"_ Seeing his readymade Thai chicken wrap, Edward paid quickly at the counter, grabbed his food and left. The last thing he saw before the rain surrounded and blinded him, was the carefully broken face of Bella. After that, all he could see in the rain for miles were two swirling, upset, chocolate eyes.

So maybe there _was_ a reason he was so alone.

Because he'd never allow anyone else to take the lonesomeness away.

--

A/N: This took awhile, but I'm incredibly proud of it. I think the scene that gave me the idea for this story will be in the next two chapters, or so. It depends. My mind is constantly shifting through ideas and rants and monologues and such. I had to make Edward cold towards Bella, because he has no trust for anyone, not even himself. That in itself shows even more about his struggles as a person. Oh, and by the way, the restaurant is actually a place where _I_ eat my lunch every day. I usually go there with Sara and Shannon, because it's the best place to eat. The school cafeteria is _so_ overrated.

--Breathless Tomb--


	4. Chapter 3: The Scar

A/N: Hey people. Thanks for the lovely response to the last chapter. It seems like everyone really feels for Edward (though that might change in a bit, but you'll see why). Okay, I got to say this because it's bugging me. I _really_ want to put a smiley face right now, but I can't, because then it'll look weird. By the way, there's a **Calvin and Hobbes** line in here. Anyways, onto the chapter…

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

--

**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Authors: **Breathless Tomb

Chapter 3

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

--

The day didn't seem to want to let up. The clock dragged on, slower than the very edges of his sanity that was slipping away. There was an odd feeling in him as his entire Social Studies class watched a heart-warming movie about a young child growing up and overcoming obstacles. It was a tear-jerker for most of the students, and some of the girls even had handkerchiefs out, dabbing at their eyes, then checking to make sure none of their make-up had come off. Edward almost snapped his fingers when he realized the emotions boiling in his stomach.

Disgust.

_Pathetic_, Edward thought, _people who get nostalgic about childhood were obviously never children_. The video was making him sick to his stomach. He couldn't handle all the _lies_. Life wasn't as easy as they made it out to be, and this whole movie was like a kick in the throat to Edward. He couldn't stomach all the love and happiness, or the _empathy_ that flowed off people like Jessica, who happened to sit right behind him.

The guilty from his words to Bella, was nearly overwhelming. He'd been so _cruel_ to her, though she'd been nothing but kind to him. If he could've found his voice, he would've barked out a laugh. He really did deserve the death he'd tried to let consume him the other day. He deserved _nothing_ besides that. He didn't even deserve to have been born into the Cullen family.

Carlisle and Esme deserved so much more than just him for a song. They were worthy of nothing short of a perfect son, someone confident and courteous, someone who they could depend on, and not worry about his mental state. They deserved a son who could _interact_ with the others, someone who actually _could_ find it in himself to empathize with this movie. But instead, they got _Edward_. They got the curse, instead of the blessing they deserved.

He had to force himself to look away from the screen, swallowing back the bile. Tears prickled at the backs of his eyes, but for a very different reason than empathy. He felt nothing short of utter _hatred_. For himself, for the others, for this movie, and for the sincere, gentle Bella Swan.

He hadn't seen her since the restaurant incident. Though this bothered him, he tried to push it out of his mind. Had she skipped the rest of the day in order to avoid seeing him? Had something happened to her once he'd left? He could only imagine. She was so _fragile_, so _helpless_. He shuddered as the countless images entered his brain. If anything had happened to her…

He wouldn't ever forgive himself.

He was a _mess_ of confusion and denial. He _hated_ her with all he had, yet at the same time…he didn't. His mind was full of hectic, frazzled thoughts and emotions. The room around him had dimmed dramatically into a startling shade of sangria, frightening him. _Their eyes_. Eyes of ruby, and blood, and every other shade of red he could possibly imagine.

Blood red eyes.

Watching.

Knowing.

Must escape.

No escape.

***

His thoughts weren't gentle. They didn't spare him, didn't show an ounce of mercy. They tormented him, and baited him, trying to get a rise out of the bronze-haired boy. Then, there was the silence. The period of time where his thoughts tortured him _even_ _more_, because they weren't there. The silence of his mind was nearly unbearable, enough to drive even the sanest man mad. He was no exception.

Although, he might've been mad the entire time.

His house was empty once he'd arrived. No car in the driveway, and no cheerful Esme waiting for him in the kitchen. The quiet catacomb of the wispy air was the last thing that Edward wanted or needed. The echoing silence—a twin to his mind—was so much more of a curse than he'd ever known. At the very least, there could've been the some light music playing, but alas, all the house knew was the muted deafness that hung off the chandeliers like cobwebs, silk twisting into metal.

_I waited for nothing_, Edward thought miserably, _absolutely nothing. Just another girl. Nothing special_. And he kept thinking this; running it around in his mind before it became something like a mantra, something spurring him on. For what? He didn't know. All he knew was, in three hours time, he'd be dead. Stone cold, and lifeless. Finally the colours would fade to black and the thorn webs would encase him forever, yet never touch him again.

He could only imagine the scene. His chalky, frigid skin, luminous in the moonlight—by the time his parents found him—with unseeing, dull green eyes. It filled him with a sick sort of joy to think about it. He didn't think of death as something to fear—but as something to respect. Nobody could escape death, but rather, to let it embrace them. And Edward had his arms wide open.

_But Esme…_

That was the only part that dared to bother him. His mother's reaction. His father's reaction. He was not naïve enough to think that it wouldn't hurt them—because it would. It would kill them—rub the salt into the wounds that were already there to start with. Edward's spirit had long died, and his body was all that remained. Removing the body as well wouldn't necessarily mean so much, but to Esme and Carlisle, it would just further drive the wedge into their hearts.

But that was all he was good for anyway. Hurting people. He didn't serve any higher purpose. He didn't possess talents or skills. He was nothing more than an empty casket—the mind and body there, but hollow inside. So surely…surely they would understand. He _needed_ to do this. It was the only way.

Was there ever another torture as _painful_, or as _successful_ as solitude? Wasn't solitary confinement considered slightly cruel? Edward wouldn't know. He'd suffered by himself for way too many years. He'd grown used to it. But, even now, having become long accustom to the empty graves that haunted him, he could still feel a rather odd chill. A wave of the darkest, deepest depression, sinking under its waves. Could anyone see the dying boy?

No.

Because he was already dead.

He took the stairs slowly this time around, savouring the sweet taste of nearly-ending pain. It was an all-consuming adrenaline rush. There was a fire burning in his veins, lighting him up, His breath came out in short pants, his face flushed as if he'd run a marathon. He opened his bedroom door, walking quickly to the adjoining bathroom. His fingers twitched as he looked at the mirror cabinet. His reflection stared back at him.

And, in that moment, Edward knew he couldn't kill himself.

There was a little boy in his small smile. A little boy who'd been crumpled and pounded down for years. Sadness knifed his eyes, dead to any onlookers. Even in the chilling of reality, Edward could see himself lost in a thick forest as a young boy. Lost from the world, only the company of the wispy winds to satisfy him.

_Coward_, his mind screamed at him, _you're nothing more than the child you never claimed to be. Go ahead! Kill yourself! Why don't you, you snivelling coward? You want to take the easy way out? Death? You'd rather ruin your parents' lives than try to correct your own? I know the face of a weakling when I see one, and believe me. You're one of them. You're no better than the others, never taking a stand. Always hiding in a corner._

Edward recoiled from his image, watching the carbon copy of him do the same. The panic fled his eyes, and he watched in mild amusement as his reflection did the same. It was shocking really, to see himself through the clear glass of truth. The mirror couldn't lie. While the mind could twist and change and distort the truth to suit its will, the mirror reflection only what stood before it. Like a pool of water, showing only what everyone else truly saw on the outside.

And he turned away, not bearing to stare into his eyes for another minute. He blanked himself, not allowing his emotions to play on his face. Life ruled over him, but he would not bend to his destiny. He wouldn't allow himself to be thrown around so cruelly by the sick fates. The odds were stacked against him, but for tonight…

He'd pretend he'd never been betted against to start with.

***

Bella—as it turned out—had not been kidnapped or murdered. He arrived at school at normal time the next day, her brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, the curls at the very ends coiled into perfect springs. There was no happiness in her milk-chocolate orbs, but she didn't appear to be sad either. The blankness that was usually on his face was engraved on hers, casting dark shadows under her eyes.

Edward didn't look her way though. Not once after he'd seen her that day. Why? Was it because he feared what he might see? Was it because he feared he'd see his own reflection again on her? Who knew? What Edward did know was that he didn't have…the strength to stay calmly in her presence. _Coward_, his treacherous mind hissed_, a coward at his full potential_.

Sitting next to her was a problem. How could he continue to ignore someone who watched him so intently? Eerily enough, her eyes seemed to be glued to Edward, staring at him as if in a trance. It unnerved him, though he was determined not to meet her gaze. He could've anticipated the big, brown eyes, so mesmerizing in their glory. He could've imagined her soft, careful voice whispering his name. It was so clear in his mind.

As soon as his class ended, he dashed off as fast as his spindly legs could carry him. There was a keening bug somewhere inside of him, fading and sinking into his clothes. Into the nothing, where all he felt was the numbness that he was ever so used to.

Lunch was brutal, as Edward had to sit along. Again. The back of the cafeteria was dark and gloomy, and Edward watched in envy and mild hatred as the _others_ joked and fooled around, not a single face sporting a frown. There was at least a tiny smirk on everyone's face, and Edward was so disgusted that he almost felt the need to cry. This was everything he'd ever wished for, but would never get. So he picked up his stuff and walked out of the lunch room.

As he walked down the hallway, he saw Mike and his goonies ahead. But instead of turning around and walking away, Edward lowered his head a fraction, walking straight towards what he could only think of impending doom. It wasn't more than a second before Mike noticed the oncoming Edward, smirking and shifting his books to one arm. Once Mike was near enough, he raised his hand and…

His books fell with a clatter to the floor, spreading across like a puddle of water. Edward didn't even have to look up to know he'd see Mike's smug smirk smiling back at him. He already knew. He heard the giggles start around him, before it erupted around him into a hallway of laughter, all attention on Edward. Even though it hurt—more than he let on—he was used to this by now. He didn't even bother to bend down, knowing the moment he stood up with his books in his hands again, Mike would quickly knock them from his hands.

"Aren't you going to pick up your books Cullen?" Mike sneered at the bronze haired boy, who stood there dejectedly, red-rimmed eyes making an appearance again. But Edward refused to show them his suffering. He would never shed a tear in front of Mike Newton. He wasn't _that_ weak. He might've disgusted himself, but even he had standards. Instead, Edward clenched his hands into fists.

"That's it!" screamed a furious melodic voice, "I can't take this anymore!" Edward's head snapped up to see tiny Bella Swan rush forward, her face twisted in anger. He couldn't keep himself from gasping quietly—though luckily no one heard. She was lovely, even in her rage, with pools of red colouring her cheeks and dark eyes melting into black. The next few scenes happened in almost slow motion.

Mike turned around, confusion splayed across his face. The moment he saw Bella's furious face, the confusion deepened. Edward watched in amazement as Bella pulled back her small, coiled fist and shot it forward like a spring, making contact with Mike's nose. There was a bile-churning snap and blood poured out, gushing from the split bone like a waterfall. Mike howled, clutching at his nose, falling forward to his knees.

Bella's eyes widened for a moment before she steeled herself and bent down, scooping up Edward's books into her hands. Flushing, Edward lowered himself quickly, keeping his head down and picking up his remaining notebooks from the floor and taking the ones from Bella's hands. He refused to meet her eyes, though he knew her smile must've been soft and encouraging. He stood up swiftly, about to scamper away, when Bella took his hand and practically dragged him away with her.

They went through every door and hallway that she could find, pulling him deeper into the heart of the school. Edward couldn't even say a word, too baffled, too hurt from before. But Bella never once looked back. She tugged him down the stairs, past all the classrooms, until they were at the very bottom of the school, standing a few feet away from an emergency exit. Bella suddenly turned around, wrapping her arms around Edward's neck and pulling him close to her.

"Shh, it's okay," Bella whispered, stroking his hair, "It's alright. You're not alone. I'm here now, so it's okay. You don't have to cry." Edward didn't even realize the tears that were spilling down his cheeks, or the loud sobs that shook his body. His much larger hands grasped at her back, trying to hold on to get a grip on something _real_. Bella hummed and shushed him gently, running her hand through his hair. Edward buried his face into the crook of her neck, trying to lose himself in her.

"You're just a big softie," Bella continued to whisper, trying to calm him down, "But it'll be alright. I'll be your friend. I don't want to hurt you. It's all going to be better now." Almost accidently, Bella's knuckles rubbed against a nasty, fading scar on the back of Edward's ear; a scar that had been there for _years_, longer than he could remember. Something shook through Edward, a shock that nearly fried his brain. He stilled, his crying coming to a screeching halt.

Something in Edward snapped. The colours disappeared to the sides, all except for Bella. Her colours lightened, and almost sparkled before him. He raised his head from her neck, awe-struck by the sight before him. Little Bella Swan stood in the middle of a black and white hallway, her skin a lush ivory, and her eyes a dark brownie colour. He raised a hand, brushing it against her cheek. She smiled at him, and it almost hurt him to see her happiness _glow_.

_She was everything._ She was the only one in the world who dared to help him. She was the one who he'd been waiting for. She was right; everything would be alright now. He didn't have to suffer anymore. She was an angel. His little angel. _So pretty,_ he thought, stroking her cheek, _such a soft angel. Going to help me_. Bella closed her eyes cupping her hand over his, holding it to her cheek. Edward whimpered.

"T-thank you," He choked out, his voice thick with his shed tears, "Thank you." He let go of her, untangling her arms from around his neck. Bella though, refused to let go of his hand, but she allowed him to lower their connected hands from her cheek. They stood in silence, with Bella playing with their joined fingers, and Edward staring at her with a small, amazed smile on his face. _She was touching him! She was smiling at him without malice or pity in her eyes._

"I don't want to stay here." Edward said mutedly, his eyes half-lidded, staring at her through his ashes. Bella's head shot up, her eyes hurt and her mouth agape. She seemed utterly ruined, like her hopes and dreams had been crushed by a fierce hand. She dropped his hand and took a step back, flipping her arms behind her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," She said, trying to hide the pain in her voice, "If you want me to leave, I—"

"No!" Edward practically shouting, cutting her off, "Don't go. I just found you." He rushed to Bella, holding her tiny waist in his large hands, staring intensely into her eyes, "Don't leave me alone again. Please." His voice shook with held back anxiety. Bella found herself locked in his gaze, unable to look away from the broken man in front of her. She placed her palms against his face.

"I won't go," She whispered reassuringly, "Not if you don't want me to do. I'll be your friend for as long as you need me. Okay?" Edward nodded furiously, muttering incoherencies, too jumbled together to make any sense to her. But it made sense to him. The cobwebs were gripping together, twisting around him, blocking everything except _her_ from his sight. The white silk dimmed around her, imprinting her in the webs.

"I just…I want you to come with me," He said, "I want to get out of this school. I don't want to see _their_ faces for awhile." His features darkened as he spoke about the other students. Bella almost felt a chill shoot up her back, but immediately his expression softened, seeping back into his normal character. She blinked, turning his face from side to side, trying to find that overwhelming anger again, but it was gone. She hadn't understood, hadn't comprehended how such a gentle boy could ever produce a face of such lividness.

So Edward took her hand and pushed through the emergency doors, the light blinding her as she was pulled through. She never noticed the happy—almost insane—smile on Edward's face, nor the adoring way he gazed down upon her. All she saw was the white light that glared through the open door.

--

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I've been extremely busy. I have two major things to say about this story. For one, for those of you who are looking for a bright story—with a little angst—about a boy overcoming his fears and gently falling in love with the girl who saved him, you shouldn't be reading this. While I do love happy endings, this story will contain some themes that aren't exactly what you would've expected. You'll see what I mean in the chapters to come.

The next thing I have to say is, I never think my stories through. Ever. Only bits and pieces. And, you'll also notice that most of my stories include some form of 'supernaturalism' in them. This story may contain some supernaturalism, if I decide on it. It all depends.

(Now I've got to get back to watching _**Death Note**_).

--Breathless Tomb--


	5. Chapter 4: The Angel

A/N: It's been awhile, and I've been incredibly busy. No time to really chat, so here you go…

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

--

**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Authors: **Breathless Tomb

Chapter 4

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

--

His smile—probably still unnoticeable to Bella—was completely possessed. Not insane, but captivated on her solely. His eyes were still filled with incredibility, not understanding how this...angel...could be so special. Her colours sparkled and there was a soft, shining aura around her. And everything else was nothing more than a shaded picture, black and white moving images. Not worthy of his time.

Bella led them outside, through the backdoor and into the student parking lot. She made a movement to pull him to her car—an old, red Chevy, the paint rusting and fading in its old age—but Edward stopped her, dragging them towards his Volvo instead. Bella squeaked, looking up at him in surprise.

"What—" She attempted to ask. Edward smiled.

"It's okay," He said softly, "I'll drive. I don't mind." Edward was _filled_ with the pure need to do _everything_ for her. He took out his keys and automatically unlocked the doors. He held the passenger seat door open for Bella, who slipped in with a grateful smile. Eager to be in her presence again, Edward sprinted around the side of the car. He gracefully hopped into the driver's seat and started the car.

The car pulled out of the parking lot and around the school, then started speeding down the road. Trees and houses flew by at a velocity too fast to catch any specific detail. As Bella rested her head against the window, Edward secretly watched her from the corner of his eye. He _knew_ there was a reason he couldn't...follow through with his...suicide attempts. He shuddered at the mental word.

"Where are we going?" She asked finally, watching the expected rain falling in large droplets. The automatic window wipers started wiping the water away. Edward thought for a moment, frowning to himself. He resurfaced with nothing. Failure.

"I'm not...sure," He said, his brows furrowed deeply. Bella laughed.

"Is there a movie you want to see?" She offered, "You hungry? Is there any particular place _you_ want to visit?" She seemed so concerned with his welfare, so occupied with making _his_ day better. Edward didn't like it—sure it flattered him for once in his life, but..._he_ wanted to lavish Bella in attention, not the other way around.

An image passed in his mind. A meadow, full of the splendours and wonders of nature. Blooming flowers and trees of all varieties. Although Edward was a bit...deprived when it came to colours, he was still sure that Bella would appreciate it. The birds and the deer that frolicked along the edges of the forest. The dulcet songs of the chickadees, and the graceful discarded feathers of the swans that swam in the nearby lake.

"There is...somewhere I would like to take you," He said with his innocent crooked smile, "You'll be...the first person I've ever taken there." Bella smiled encouragingly and nodded. Edward swerved the car quickly down a road that took them directly onto the highway. Taking the one-oh-one north, he pulled the car down a near empty road, the rain beginning to let up.

The road came to an end after awhile, cement changing to soggy grass. Bella grimaced as she opened the door and stepped from the car, and Edward was immediately consumed by horror and self-hatred. He hadn't even _asked_ her what _she_ wanted to do! How could he have been so selfish as to think that she would be fine with whatever he chose? What...a fucking...idiot...he was.

"I'm so sorry," Edward apologized profusely, rushing over to her side instantly, "I'm sorry! We can go if you want. We don't have to stay here. Please don't be mad at me!" He was pleading to her now, holding her arm tightly, almost to the point of being painful. Bella reached up and started scratching his head, weaving her fingers through his bronze hair. His grip slowly loosened, a little purr building up at the back of his throat.

"You can calm down," She said, soothing him, "I don't mind. I'm not mad. I just...don't do well in slippery, wet places." She suddenly smirked to herself, "Ha. That's what she said." And then she started giggling uncontrollably. Edward's head cocked to the side.

"Do you want me to carry you?" He asked with unmistakeable innocence. Bella giggle and shook her head.

"It's alright Edward," She laughed, "Thank you though." They stood there silently for a second, Edward gazing at her in awe again. Under his intense stare, Bella squirmed and blushed. "Well, are you going to lead the way?" Edward flushed and mumbled a few incoherencies, taking Bella's small hand in his own and leading her into the forest.

Bella winced away from the arching branches of the trees, treading lightly on the mucky ground. Edward had the most insatiable urge to shield her, so he wrapped his arms over her shoulders, pulling her in front of him. She glanced up in surprise, but her face was pleasantly shocked, not disgusted. At every large root or rock that Bella could've potentially tripped over, Edward lifted her slightly up, carrying her by her upper arms.

Through the woods, the sound of running water became clearer and clearer. The dark musk of the forest began to dim and blend into a light moss green. Sparrows and a robin sang from the trees, fluttering away when the two humans came within short distance. Pairs of amber-green eyes watched them silently from the safe haven of the thick trees and bushes. Little spotted geckos slithered rapidly across the ground, scared by the sounds of cracking twigs and crunching leaves.

Edward stopped, holding Bella close to him. She stiffened at his halting movements, listening. He swiped a hand to the side, pushing away a bunch of leaves, exposing a sliver of the meadow he'd been looking for. His beaming smile was breathtaking in its happiness. Bella gasped at the scene, using her hands to brush away more of the leaf-rimmed branches. Even as the twigs cut her skin, she still persisted.

The grass was a light green, lit up by the buttercup sun that now glowed in the sky. A rainbow arched across the sky, reaching its highest peak right above the meadow. Edward pulled her through the stretching branches, taking the brunt of the scratches for her. Bella clung tightly to his wrist, her eyes still sliding across the terrain in mindless marvel. Clusters of flowers winded around each other, yellows blending into purples and reds.

"It's beautiful," She said, her mouth gaping open, "How did you...find this?" Edward ducked his head in embarrassment.

"I've never had any friends," He whispered, ashamed, "I have a lot of free time." As his expression broke—showing his true suffering inside—, Bella cooed at him softly, sitting down and pulling him with her. She cradled his head close to her, kissing his forehead tenderly. Edward whimpered and snuggled close to her, removing his head from her hands so he could bury it into her stomach, near her womb.

"I'm your friend," She reassured him with a smile; "I don't understand why anyone _wouldn't_ want to be your friend. You're smart, and kind, and loyal, and sweet, and funny." Her face suddenly heated up, "And you're beautiful. Any _sane_ girl would adore you. It's just these stupid kids in Forks." He smiled into her clothed belly.

She was his saviour. His human angel. If she left him now...he would simply break. Break into too many pieces to put back together. He would be reduced to nothing more than a shell, his insides ripped out. His heart beat now solely for her. His little porcelain angel, with the loving brown eyes and pouty pink lips. He wanted to burrow himself in her, never leave her. She was his shield and his...friend. His only friend. His best friend.

He was falling too hard and too fast. But he couldn't help himself. It wasn't hard to love Bella. It was as easy as...falling. He wanted to kiss her. Hold her. Be with her. Forever. His arms weaved around her waist like vices, pulling himself closer to her. He was shaking now, realizing everything now. He was leaving himself vulnerable. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"Don't leave me," He whimpered, "You can't leave me. Please don't." Bella shushed him as he begged her. Running her fingers through his hair, she pulled at the tips lightly. It created a wonderful sensation inside him. Edward started purring again, nuzzling her stomach.

"I won't go anywhere," She promised, "Not until you tell me to leave. I swear. I'll never leave you willingly." She patted his head as she spoke, the words all running together until they were all jumbled. When he looked back up at her face, she was sleeping soundly. Her cheekbones were flushed a dusty pink, her pale eyelids creamy in colour. Her breaths were even, steady. Hesitating, Edward carefully leaned up, making sure she was still asleep every second.

His little sleeping angel. He was so careful around her. Like treading on broken glass. He was terrified that one day something would bother or offend her too much, and she would just leave. He felt...like she was made of glass. Or feathers. Something delicate and beautiful. Looking back at his former self—two days ago—, he was clueless as to how come he hadn't immediately thought she was the most gorgeous alive.

And with one last hesitating motion, Edward pressed his lips ever so gently against Bella's. He moved his lips slowly against her own, disappointed that she was sleeping, but also glad. Why would _she_—the kindest, prettiest girl ever—want to kiss _him?_ She could do so much better. _Anyone_ would be better. Except that vile Mike Newton, of course. Every rule had its exceptions.

So for now, this would have to suffice.

His thin lips against her plush-pillow lips.

So...perfect.

So...delicate.

So...not enough.

***

They eventually had to leave—albeit it was reluctant for both parties. Edward insisted on carrying her back through the dense forest, so Bella finally conceded. It secretly made him ecstatic to carry her on his back through the woods. He felt _useful_ for once. She clung tightly to him, her arms wrapping around his neck like coils. It very nearly choked him, but he would gladly die here, holding Bella.

He drove her home as soon as they reached his car. With each minute, Edward felt more of his heart rip. He didn't want to...leave her. He'd never felt so _alive_ or so joyful. This cheery feeling that was brewing inside him was...so much better than any Christmas cheer or birthday celebration. His lips still tingled from his one-sided kiss. He felt the guilt of stealing a kiss from her, but the extreme fear of her being disgusted and leaving him overruled his desire to tell her.

"We should probably go back to the school to get my truck," She said as they neared her house. Edward smiled.

"It's okay. It's only a twenty minute walk from this area to the school. I'll leave my car here and go get your truck."

"Edward..." Bella scolded in a teasing voice, "You don't have to do _everything_ for me."

"But I _want_ to," He pressed, parking the car suddenly right in front of her house, "You don't have to do anything. Ever." He beamed, "You're my best friend. My only friend." Bella's face was blank for a minute and Edward panicked. Then she grinned, leaned over, and gave him a peck on the cheek. Their faces were matching shades of fire-hydrant red. The doors unlocked.

"You're the most adorable guy ever," She said, stepping from the Volvo, "You _are_ my best friend." She closed the door just enough for it to click into place before Edward followed her out the car, slamming the door behind him. With a final smile, he set off in the direction of Forks High School.

It wasn't a long walk, and the school was long empty when he arrived. Bella's red pick-up truck was parked at the very end of the lot, the sole car left. He raced towards it, fingering the key Bella had passed him during the drive to her house. It wasn't an automatic lock, so he had to wait until he reached the car. Impatiently, he stuck the key in the lock, twisting it.

The clouds were beginning to pull over the setting sun. The sky was illuminated by the orange and yellow blended rays. The clouds were like blue-violet cotton balls, stretching across the horizon, tinted a little redder by the overlay of the sun's rays. It was like a painted portrait, too surreal to be there. But Edward had lived in Forks too long enough to know that this was the norm. Forks was beautiful in all sense of the word.

Slipping into the cab of the truck, he stuck the key into the ignition and started the truck. It roared to life, a sound that could put a mountain lion to shame. Edward flinched back, then laughed nervously at his cowardice. He drove out of the parking lot, finding it odd to be driving such a huge, raging car. He pulled onto the main road, not daring to push the car past forty.

He breathed in deeply. The entire truck smelt of sugar and strawberries—like Bella. It was the sweetest thing. His very real drug addiction. Looking to the other seat for a second, he noticed a brown cotton scarf. Against his better judgement—as his mind as run by pure need now—, he pulled over and shoved the scarf into his coat pocket. It bulged out, but Edward was sure if he played his cards right and kept his hands in his pockets, Bella wouldn't notice. He restarted the car and kept driving.

Bella was inside her house when he got back, so Edward parked the truck and sprinted to his Volvo, shooting her a quick smile and nod before he started his car and was off. Her returning smile was brilliant, and though he wanted to stop and admire it, he knew he had to go before she noticed. She would never suspect _him_ of thieving her scarf. But maybe she would...and then she would hate him. Edward shook away the horrible thought.

The whole drive home, Edward was mulling over things in his head. Why was he so reckless as to steal _two_ things from her today? A kiss and a scarf. An interesting pair. The kiss was much more satisfying. She hadn't suspected a thing, though he _had_ been surprised when—even in sleep—her body reacted slightly. Her lips had swollen up from blood, and her cheeks had taken on a cerise flush.

Had she been awake, he was certain she would've rejected him. She would've blinked, pulled back and demanded to know what he was doing. Then she would've stood up in disgust and yelled at him. She would've called him ugly and a loser. She would've left right then and there, leaving him alone in the meadow. She would never speak to him again. She would apologize to Newton, and befriend him. Then...she would fall for him...and date him...and sleep with him...

Edward was nearly hyperventilating now from panic. _No,_ he had to reassure himself in his thoughts, _Bella won't hurt me. She's a nice girl. She won't leave me. She promised._ But in the back of his mind, something told him that this would be like Kindergarten all over again. Bella was the lunch he'd been looking forward to—though he didn't literally want to _eat_ her, he just meant it in the metaphorical sense—and sooner or later he'd find it thrown away. Ruined.

And then he'd cry, like the pathetic child he was.

As soon as he got home, he rushed to his room, locking the door behind him. He pulled the scarf out of his pocket and raised it to his nose, sniffing the scent. Falling back on his bed, he curled up into a ball holding the scarf between his shaking fingers. Bella's scent encased him in a web, silk spinning around his body. Spiders weaved their cobwebs, hanging off the walls. Tiny spies, watching him in his private quarters.

_You're obsessive;_ they hissed in shrill whispers, _you're possessed by her essence. You're not you. You're a lie. You wanted to die, and now you're living for her._

_You're dependant on her,_ they laughed; _you only want to live to serve her. You only want to live in a world where she exists. But you need her company, or else you'll fade away to dust._

And he was. His own will to live was dormant inside him, waiting for only her words to set it free. He lived to serve her. Make his angel happy. Her scent on the scarf was the only thing keeping him sane right now. His mind could function, only because she allowed it so. If she told him to stop breathing, he'd die to please her. Endure a blazing open fire? He'd pour the gasoline on himself. Take those pills he'd kept avoiding? He'd make his bed ready to sleep in.

_She deserves it all,_ he thought, _she's a good fairy. My lovely heroine. The little angel sent down from Heaven to save me. I am nothing without her. I never have been anything until her._ And he convinced himself this. Spun gold and sparkling slippers; she was as radiant as those. A princess for all she was worth. A tough little firecracker, ready to take down foes like Newton.

And she would be his saving grace. She's cure him of any sins he'd ever committed. She'd sing his worries away, and smother them with herself. And he was all too willing to embrace this angel for as long as she stayed on Earth. But if she left, so would he.

Edward Cullen had never been a religious person. God never helped him before, so why should he start believing now? But if an angel was what he'd been sent, maybe believing wasn't such a bad idea.

--

A/N: I'm so sorry for taking so long. You must want to punch me. I've been busy, but this past week my creative juices have been flowing. I do really enjoy this Bella. She's so...unique and adorable. And this Edward is literally heartbreaking to write. I picture him so hesitant to open up, but after Bella saves him—not quite literally, but you understand—, he just becomes positively dependant on her. As in, he's not quite sure how to function properly without him.

This chapter was helped created by the band **He Is We**. They are...amazing. My favourite song is _Radio_ which...relates a lot to this story, in ways.

--Breathless Tomb--


	6. Chapter 5: The Moods

A/N: Okay, so here is the next chapter of the story (the whole time I was typing this, I was saying it aloud in the German accent). I was _going_ to add some answered questions here, but I got tired and bored and decided not to. I actually wrote half the chapter of the...eighth chapter? Whatever chapter—it was the first chapter with mild lemons. It should be up shortly, because I think I'll be rushing this story soon. But for now, onto the chapter...

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

--

**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Authors: **Breathless Tomb

Chapter 5

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

--

Who could he be? He could be anyone—anyone she wanted. If he could only tear himself away from this frozen moment in time. He was willing to start immediately—if that was what she desired. Whatever she wanted. Because he was her willing and able servant, and his only purpose in life was to make _her_ life better. As long as she's stayed around him. As long as she remained near him.

Edward woke up that morning feeling lighter than he had in all his seventeen years. The soft brown scarf was still twined tightly around his fingers, pressing close to his mouth. He rested a sole kiss on it, deluding himself into thinking it would be okay for now. But...deep inside him...he knew that nothing would ever compare. He'd never be able to move on from _her_.

Slowly, Edward slid off his bed, still clutching the scarf. With an exhausted yawn, he realized he'd never changed from the day before. Nor had he eaten. His stomach growled. Edward chuckled. _I really need to start paying more attention,_ he thought, _I don't want to accident end up in the ER for malnourishment_. He couldn't afford to be so careless with his health. Not while Bella was still in existence.

So of course, his whole suicide plan was dead to him now—no pun intended. He would never even look at those horrid pills again, in the neon orange bottle. But...they would remain in his cabinet...just in case. Because...he knew he wouldn't be able to live in a world without Bella. So...if the time ever came—and he shuddered thinking of the possibility—, he would be right behind her, ready to fade from reality.

Throwing on a pair of fresh jeans and a thin navy blue long-sleeved shirt, Edward stuffed the scarf in his backpack and ran down the stairs to the kitchen. He jumped down two stairs at a time, eager to eat his fill of breakfast and get to school—where _Bella_ would be waiting. Even thinking her name made Edward smile in bliss.

Esme sat at the table, watching in confusion as Edward practically sprinted into the room, looking around frantically. Seeing a ready-made bowl of cereal at his place at the table, he shot Esme a look of appreciate before sitting down and digging in. She could only raise a sole eyebrow, lifting her coffee mug to her lips before taking a deep sip. Edward didn't even look at her once as he hurriedly stuffed his face.

Esme was as careful with her words as possible, "Are you...anxious to get to school?" She winced internally, waiting for the deadness to return to her son's temporary lively eyes...but it never came. He just nodded swiftly and kept slurping up spoonfuls of Cheerio's.

"Got to get to school," He mumbled between mouthfuls, "I've got to get to Bella. She'll be waiting for me." At the name—_Bella_—, Esme's eyebrows skyrocketed. For a few seconds, there was nothing she could say. Her voice died behind her lips and her thoughts came to a screeching halt. _She_. Edward—_her_ son Edward—had...met someone? She couldn't believe her thoughts...they didn't make sense. She had to check for herself.

"Who's..._Bella_, Edward?" She asked tentatively, her hand holding the coffee mug now trembling. He looked up at her then—his spoon stopping midway to his mouth—, and..._smiled_. He smiled a smile so beautiful, so full of joy, that it literally broke Esme's heart. There...was...actual...happiness...behind his eyes. Tears prickled at the backs of her eyes.

"Bella's my friend," He said with the same crooked grin, "My _best_ friend."

And with that, the coffee mug fell to the table and shattered, the dark liquid staining the white tablecloth as Esme sprang up to engulf Edward in a bone-crushing hug.

***

Driving to school, Edward's only thoughts were centered on Bella. To be honest, his entire _life_ was centered on the petite brunette girl. At that present moment, he was mulling over how he would go about returning her scarf. He was worrying and obsessing over it, going deranged with anxiety. Would she hate him? Would she report him to the police? Would she...never speak to him again? He could only imagine the conversation now...

"_Hello Bella, I found your scarf—"_

"_So that's where my scarf went! I was looking for it all last night! You stole it from my car, didn't you?"_

"_No, I—"_

"_Don't lie to me, you freak. You were the last person in my car! You stole it!"_

"_Please Bella, I didn't—"_

"_Just get away from me. I don't want to see your face ever again."_

He shuddered violently in his seat, his breaths coming out ragged and shallow. No. She couldn't do that to him. She promised. _She promised,_ he reminded himself mentally, _she swore she wouldn't leave me. I...I can't lose her. Not now. Not ever. She's my only hope. I need her in my life._ He had to struggle to remain focussed on driving. One more thought like that and he'd burst into tears...which would only do _wonders_ for his driving.

So he stopped thinking, his eyes locked on the road. His anxieties were still there, but they were subdued, pushed to the back of his head. Maybe later...when he was alone. Maybe...Bella would understand. He could tell her—albeit vaguely—what he feared. And maybe she would reassure him. This quiet thought lifted his spirits as he pulled into the school parking lot.

She was already there, standing beside her big red truck. Her books were clutched tightly to her body, her eyes darting around nervously until she spotted his car entering the lot. At that point, a giant beaming smile caressed her delicate face, her brownie eyes lighting up. She ran over to where he parked his car, completely unaware of the appalled stares of the other students. Edward's whole mood darkened as he saw their disgusted faces.

_And the initiation has begun..._

He opened the door hurriedly, in a haste to see her again. As soon as she got within three feet of him, he kicked the car door shut and swept her into a hug, not thinking once about personal boundaries. She squealed, but let him wrap his arms around her, keeping her books still close to her chest. She smelt of strawberries, as Edward inconspicuously inhaled her delectable scent.

"Good morning Bella," He said brightly, pulling back to smile at her with tangible warmth. From the corner of his eye, he saw the other students visibly flinch at the sight of his smile, having never seen it before. He quickly looked back to Bella, focussing all his attention on her. _As it should be..._

"Good morning to you too, Edward," She laughed, her sun-kissed hair swaying with her chuckles. Grabbing her hand, he towed her to the back of his car. He popped open the trunk and grabbed his bag, slipping it over one shoulder. She kept contact with him the entire time, noticing he seemed to like holding her hand.

She had _no_ idea how much he _really_ liked it.

Her skin felt like the sun and the stars to him. Like a smooth velvet cloth had been wrapped around him, and it sent him heart into furious rabbit-beats, each a jiffy long. If he could only do one thing for the rest of his life, he would like to only hold her hand, and feel her soft skin against his own. Breaking from his thoughts—and trying to wipe the goofy smile off his face—, Edward slammed the trunk shut, walking hand-in-hand with Bella into the building.

Even inside, people stared. It unnerved him. Scared him even. He wanted to shield Bella from all the probing eyes, but he knew they were mostly staring at him. His new persona must've shocked them. They probably thought he wasn't capable of emotions. To be honest, even _he_ didn't know he could possess such emotions. Sure, he could feel hurt, anger, overwhelming sadness...

But love...?

Happiness?

Pure, all-consuming _bliss?_

He hadn't thought it mentally possible for him.

They walked into the school together, their footsteps eventually syncing up. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ Edward found it unbearably pleasant, and it sort of...soothed his heart for a bit. He found it easy to get immersed in the rhythm, and it made him feel _things_. Things he knew he shouldn't feel. Love, for one—although he knew he couldn't control that—and...lust. Something much darker and inhibited. The lust swam at the bottom of his stomach, hidden but still noticeable.

Edward let Bella drag him to her locker, following her more than eagerly. He watched in fascination as her walk seemed to have an extra bounce to it—and if he'd cared to notice, so did his. Their movements were in perfect harmony, so utterly connected that if anyone else had seen them together—anyone who didn't know they'd only met three days ago—, they would've thought that they'd known each other their whole lives.

Once they'd reached her locker, Bella spun the dial quickly, hitting the three numbers within ten seconds, and then giving the lock a firm pull. It sprang loose, and she quickly flicked it off, holding it in her hand as she gathered her necessary books from her locker. Something in Edward dimmed as he remembered he only had one class with her—only one precious hour. Even Bella seemed to frown a little as she pulled her Biology textbook out.

He offered to carry her books—and honestly, he would be willing to carry a house for her if she wished—, but she had politely declined. _So selfless,_ Edward thought as he inwardly swooned, _she's so kind and caring. Not totally selfless...and not independent...but...thoughtful. Eager to help, and not so eager to ask for it._ He smiled to himself as they walked to his locker. Still, as they walked through the halls, greedy eyes took them in, passionate in their nosiness.

"I guess I'll see you second period?" Bella said, though her words came out as more of a question. Disappointment was clear in her eyes, and Edward was sure his eyes reflected the same emotion—though his disappointment was like a tidal wave inside of him, his heart breaking at the thought of not seeing her for even a _minute_.

"I'll miss you," He mumbled, slamming his locked shut. He could feel the evil presence of his schedule taped inside his agenda, mocking him. _Oh, we saw this coming all along,_ it chuckled, _and we're just so fucking happy to see you so miserable._ Internally, he scowled. Unfortunately, it was much too late in the year to change his classes around—and as if they would actually let him. Ms Cope hated him nearly as much as Mike and the others did.

Reputations, reputations.

Of course no one would dare help out a poor, lonely boy in a town where status meant everything.

"Hey," Bella said in her oh-so gentle voice, "I'll miss you too." And she shifted her books to one hand, reaching up to cup his cheek in her soft palm. Instinctively—as it was something primal buried deep within his chest—he leaned into her hand, covering it with his own and breathing in deeply. Leisurely, his hand dropped down to grip her waist, pulling her closer to him. She squeaked, but made no move to protest.

With his eyes sliding shut, he leaned forward until their foreheads were resting against each other. Her hand stayed on his cheek, rubbing in tender circles. Their breaths calmed and flowed together; as he took a breath in, she exhaled, and vice versa. A bubble formed around them...something far too private to even _try_ to glance at.

In this oddly intimate act, Edward opened his eyes to see that her eyes had closed as well. Even now, as he became more aware of where they were—in a crowded hallway of the public high school which he hated so much—he couldn't find it in himself to care. Not while burrowing himself into the very essence and scent of Bella.

Spider webs...

The webs...

_Just let it burn..._

_This won't hurt..._

_They say...even as they cackle in the darkness..._

***

Mike wasn't there in his homeroom period. Had it been any normal day, Edward wouldn't have noticed—Mike had a habit of skipping the majority of his classes—, but this wasn't just any 'ordinary' day. Not only was he freshly more aware of his surroundings—as for once, he felt the need to keep his head high instead of looking at the ground. This was the day after Bella had _punched_ Mike...and now he wasn't here...

Edward almost smirked—though he caught himself before the mirth could overpower him. The same _Mike Newton_ who'd so viciously taunted him for the greater part of his life...calling him names like 'coward', and 'freak', and 'worthless'...was a coward himself. Refusing to show his face because a _girl_ had hit him.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to throw his head back and allow the glee to engulf him. She really _was_ an angel—Bella of course, as he couldn't possibly have been referring to anyone else. She'd shone a light down upon the person Edward had most hated, showing his true colours. _Looks like there's only a sheep beneath that wolf costume, _Edward thought slyly,_ a sheep that's scared that a kitten scratched it too hard. _

It was hypocritical of him, of course, as he knew he would've reacted the same way if he'd been in Mike's shoes. He would've felt humiliated and weak...suddenly Edward's mild empathy turned into a flare of anger. _Too fucking bad for Newton,_ he inwardly seethed; _it's about time he got a taste of what I've been feeling of ALL THESE FUCKING YEARS._

The rage was overwhelming, and he fought with the urge to growl loudly in frustration. He'd always had these spasms of pure fury—where the anger would take over his mind, and the calmer side of him fought violently to keep him in check—but...what he was feeling right now...had to be ten _times_ worse than _any_ of the other attacks that he'd ever felt before.

"Mr Cullen?" an annoyed voice broke through his murderous thoughts. Mr Buckley glared at him from the front of the classroom, expectantly. Edward's head snapped up, his eyes still black—the flames of lividness still dancing along the edges, greedily licking up the plains of his eyes. Mr Buckley visibly baulked at the sight of Edward's furious face, flinching back only slightly.

"What?" Edward asked, but it came out as a snapped hiss. Everyone in the classroom threw a quick glance at the door, trying to estimate just how long it would take to jump up and make a run for it.

"W-who led the Million Man March on Washington?" Mr Buckley barely stuttered out, a sweat breaking out on his forehead. Edward rolled his eyes in aggravation.

"Louis Farrakhan," He growled out impatiently. The old history teacher nodded hurriedly, keen to skip onto the next student. Edward could feel everyone in the class give him a once over, trying to figure out what the _hell_ was wrong with him. But instead of feeling exposed and horrified at his behaviour, Edward lowered his head again, glaring down at his desk. Mr Buckley ignored him for the rest of the lesson—well, ignored was too strong a word...it was more like, he _avoided_ any contact or conversation with Edward.

His irritable mood didn't prove to last long once the bell had rung. He was up and out of his seat within the second, hurrying out the door at lightning quick pace. His classmates watched in confusion as he made a beeline down the hall, a mad smile blooming on his face. Their faces were both terrified and intrigued—it kind of bothered them to see him so moody, instead of withdrawn.

_She_ was waiting for him at the door of their Biology classroom as he rounded the corner. Edward's quickly blossoming smile exploded with radiance, blindingly happy. Everyone within a three foot radius of him took a step back, uncertainty clear in their eyes. Edward rushed forward before sweeping her up into a bone-crushing hug. Bella giggled, and—with her books still tightly clutched under her left arm, which was starting to become uncomfortable—she reached around him to scratch the back of his head.

"Hello again," She said with a grin. Edward's arm loosened and she plopped down to her feet. His grin changed significantly to match hers. He didn't even plan it—his mind just calculated the exact angles and contours of her smile and morphed Edward's grin to match it up precisely. If Bella saw the subtle change in his grin—which she probably didn't, because who was she to know if their smiles matched up—, she didn't remark on it.

To be fair, Edward didn't notice it either.

"Hi," He whispered back. Bella entwined their fingers together, pulling him into the class. Mr Mason looked up from his laptop as they entered, and his eyes widened in perplexity. He watched as Edward merrily allowed little Bella Swan to drag him to their desk, before sitting down on the stool and automatically twisted his body to further face her. Bella immediately locked him into an expressive conversation that had Edward hanging off her every word.

To the outsiders...he no longer looked like the old Edward Cullen—the one they'd ostracized for so many years.

Because now...he looked like...

Bella's Edward.

--

A/N: I don't like the ending. Honestly, I really didn't like it. But I've been at a loss of what to do, so that was as good as it was going to get. Is there anything you guys want to see happen? I'm not promising anything, but if there's anything that would make this story better...well, just tell me in a review:)

--Breathless Tomb--


	7. Chapter 6: The Chains

A/N: Okay, I want to start things off by saying I'm sorry. I'm terribly inconsistent with my writing and nothing ever works out. I'm sorry to all of you who have been waiting for this chapter. But I would appreciate a lot if some of you guys stopped nagging me about updating. I understand. I'm terrible. But I have a life too. And, I don't just write on a whim—if I'm not feeling inspired at the moment, nothing good comes out. I want to give you guys the best and I can't do that if I'm just writing nonstop. I'll tire myself out. I hope you understand and have the decency to give me some room to breathe. I'm sorry again, now onto what you've been waiting for...

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

--

**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Authors: **Breathless Tomb

Chapter 6

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

--

Day ended. Day one comes to a finale. An abrupt ending with a quick goodbye—although still as sweet as a long one. Day finishes on a gloomy note, spinning songs of your heart's melancholy. Day sings it's ending song, not enough to bring it back but waiting for it to restart all over again. Every dawn emerges as a night—or a sunset—and every night emerges as a dawn. Differentiating never was.

Edward's day passed exceptionally fast, something he didn't like. He was used to the days slowly crawling by—and he didn't want to have to leave Bella so early. His last period of the day was painful. His forehead was sticky with sweat, his breaths coming out in sharp gasps. His eyes were glued to the clock. Not too sure of what he would do. Each tick was a stab to his kidneys—the pains seemed to come from there, since his stomach had swallowed battle-butterflies. He'd never once in his life dreaded the school day's end. But now he loathed in with every fibre in his being.

Because Bella would have to leave him, and he would have to go home again—away from her. He had her scarf at least, to keep him company, but it wasn't the same. Nothing was the same. He whimpered lowly to himself, trying to imagine a world where Bella didn't exist. It was a bleak world, a world without hope or salvation. Bedlam around every corner. Perhaps that was all _that_ world held, but in _this_ world, Bella miraculously existed. She really _lived_.

_Because 'live' without a 'v' is merely a lie._

_And even though that didn't make sense to him, he didn't care because he was_ happy.

When the bell finally rang, he winced and lowered his head, holding back tears. How pathetic. He was _crying,_ because she was _leaving_ only to come _back_ the next _day_. How immature. But he couldn't help it. It was the only thing he knew—other than Bella, he felt nothing. So it was only logical. _She_ was _his_ world. The only world—the every world. His life _and_ his world. Two together.

A world without a life equals to nothing more than pure nothing. A simple equation that no one really understood without the right numbers. But _he_ understood. Because his numbers would and _always_ would be around. She promised him. And Bella was an honest girl—she kept her promises. She wouldn't let him down—not so easily at least. Bella would warn him, begin to distance herself slowly so that he was ready for the end result. She wouldn't just cut him off abruptly.

Of course, that would probably kill him, but it was better than the other possibilities.

He stood up, every joint aching—though it might've just been all in his head—and headed for the door. The rest of his class had long left, leaving him all alone. The teacher gave him an odd look, but said nothing. It wasn't unusual for Edward to wait until the rest of the class had poured out of the room, but usually he had a lighter expression on his face—happy, blissful for the day's end. Right now he looked...like he might be sick.

But of course, the teacher said not a word. He might've been concerned for Edward, but he wouldn't be bothered to interrogate him. That would require talking to him—communicating with him, and _no one_ wanted to have to do that. And even though Edward honestly didn't care, he couldn't help but shoot his teacher a bitter glance before trudging out the door, dragging his feet behind him.

He walked leisurely down the hallway, his face a mask—trying to hide his disappointment and fury. He couldn't let _them_ see his pain. That would be too shameful. He had his pride, no matter how small it was. Plus, it would just give _them_ another opportunity to ridicule him. And he didn't need that. He didn't need to hear their horrid taunts.

"_Looking for Bella? And you want to know where she is? Well too bad."_

"_You're such a fucking stalker!"_

"_Get over yourself, dude. She doesn't want you, and she never will."_

"_You're a freak, Cullen. She just pities you."_

"_Fucking obsessed loser."_

Edward shuddered, but this time his mind fluttered to thoughts of _them_ insulting Bella. The very idea...her wide innocent eyes filled with tears as she tried not to listen to _their_ voices. Her ears scarlet—_you know what they say, when your ears go warm, someone's talking about you._ It would be all his fault and there would be nothing he could do about it, because he was too much of a bloody coward.

"_Hey Bella. Going to bang your retard boyfriend?"_

"_You're such a slut, Bella."_

"_Aren't you afraid he's just going to snap one day and kill you?"_

"_Your bitch-Cullen just went that way. I think he's looking for you...like always."_

She'd begin to hate him. He knew it. She'd never want to speak to him again. Obviously there was something seriously wrong with him, and Bella was just overlooking it now. But sooner or later she'd notice it, and then she'd be ashamed of him. _But she promised,_ Edward's mind whined, _she swore to me! She can't do that! Please no! I'll die if she leaves me!_

He was so selfish. He knew that too. He was taking her happiness—her only chance at a good life—and using it to satisfy _himself_. He was disgusting, something that should've never existed. Bella was light and rainbows—she was so perfect and pure that she should've been wearing a white flowing dress and had a halo above her head. There was nothing more beautiful, and it killed him to think of her tear-stained cheeks and her eyes so full of malice. She would become dead on the inside, as he had been before her. _Before Bella_...it sounded like a term to indicate a very dark age.

He walked quicker down the long hallway, rounding a corner to come face-to-face with Bella. She exhaled quickly in surprise, flinching back a step from the sudden closeness. Edward did the same, but his body was suddenly consumed by hurt at her backing away from him. He was such a hypocrite. In a fraction of a second, he noticed numerous things about her. The way her body was tensed, her shoulders pulled back, and her tight eyes.

The moment her eyes travelled up the length of his body though, she visibly relaxed and nearly tackled him into a hug. He stumbled back, his arms winding around her. The hurt that had occupied his chest vanished, spinning up into dizzying bliss. The feeling of _her_ in _his_ arms was indescribable, too good for mere words to express. He felt warm, very warm, and all his troubles momentarily trickled away into a puddle around him.

The moment she stepped back from his arms though, all his worries came rushing back. The depression returned to him, resting on his shoulders. It pushed on him, weighing him down. Really, he couldn't think of anything worse, short of Bella dying or getting grievously injured. Other than that, having to leave Bella was a horror all on its own. In order to restrain his rising anxiety, he lifted a hand to cup her cheek. To his delight, she leaned into his palm.

"Edward..." She breathed out, her voice like a dove's coo and cupcakes. Sweet and soft. Soft and sweet. He allowed her dulcet tones to cuddle him, accented on certain words and syllables. He needed her airy voice—not airy as in nasally, but as in that it seemed to float gracefully in the air—, no other sound pleased him so much. He breathed her name back in a reverent voice.

"I was waiting for you at your locker, but you weren't there," Bella said, "So I thought you'd left. I wasn't really sure, but it'd been a few minutes and I was all alone so I was beginning to get worried, but I digress." She smiled her patented-Bella smile, the one where her lips stretched across her face—which looked almost painful, since her lips were so small—and her eyes sparkled.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," Edward apologized profusely, unable to hide the deep shame in his voice, "I was in...class. Just gathering my stuff. But I promise I won't leave without saying goodbye. I'm so sorry." His lower lip quivered, scared that she would be disappointed in him. Miraculously though, her smile never wavered.

"Its fine, Edward," She laughed it off, "As long as you're here now. Which you are. I just missed you, since I haven't seen you since lunch. It's kind of sad, but I wanted to see you again." Edward grinned.

"It's not sad at all. I missed you too. I just wanted to say goodbye to you." His voice broke on _goodbye,_ shaming him even further. He needed her, and he wasn't above begging for her company, but he didn't want her to know just _how_ dependant he was on her. That gave her the power to make or break him—well, she already _did_ have that power, but she didn't need to know it. And she could ruin him with that power.

"Goodbye?" She repeated, amusement still clear in her voice, "Why are we saying goodbye? The day isn't over yet." There was a new hope in him, a flickering candle.

"Don't you have to get home?" He asked, needing to make sure that she was serious. He wouldn't be able to stand her joking. Bella had to give him certainty to her every word—to every demand or suggestion. He'd been played for a fool for years. For _this_ long he'd dealt with the pain and heartbreak—not to mention the deep secret he carried with him everywhere—, but now he drew the line. Bella was everything and anything in the form of a girl.

And he wouldn't be able to survive this if she was only stringing him along.

Bella shrugged, "Charlie's been bothering me about making friends lately. He wasn't too happy about me breaking Mike's nose, but apparently he doesn't _like_ Mike." Her smile turned wicked, "Mike threatened to press charges against me for assault, but Charlie gave him a little _talk_. Mike's face still hasn't completely gotten back its colour."

Edward threw his head back, _really_ laughing for the first time in his entire life. The aspect of actually _laughing_ shocked him into silence. He slapped a hand over his mouth, not recognizing the booming sound coming from him. His stomach rumbled with it, shaking him to the very core. Bella caught onto what his shock was about, and chuckled, her eyes squeezing as her wicked smirk morphed back into a giant grin.

"That's called a laugh, Edward," She giggled, her sing-song voice lilting gently. A crooked smile spread across his face under his hand.

_What...am I becoming?_

_And to question this further...who am I becoming?_

_Can I no longer be myself?_

_Or the One-Before?_

_Am I mine?_

_Or am I hers?_

***

Hers. He was definitely hers. He couldn't deny this. He was hers—and he would scream it from the top of his lungs if his voice didn't solely belong to her. Originally, he'd been no one's—not even his _own_ person—, and now...he was a whole new person who belonged to one Miss Isabella Swan. His voice was only one of the many things about him that she owned. He heeded to her every whim and wish.

He was—as the kids say—_whipped_.

Whipped and chained down by the _webs_. Spider webs—as that was what they were—made of steel. Steel cables, binding him to her irrevocably. He couldn't get _over_ it! It was just so unusual! So _not_ him! It was the strangest thing—to be split into two people, the one he used to be and the one he had become. And he couldn't tell between these two people, because they both loved Bella equally.

They were just completely different.

"The library?" Edward asked in confirmation, raising an eyebrow sceptically. Bella nodded in mock seriousness. He shrugged, realizing that she was in fact serious about her decision. He didn't know why he'd been surprised—Bella seemed like a reader after all. She took his hand, pulling him out of the school and into the parking lot. He didn't resist, happily trailing after her like a little puppy.

"I still have homework to do," She explained, "And even though I want to spend time with you, this stuff is due _tomorrow_. And I'm pretty lazy, so I have to be responsible every once in awhile." She shrugged too, but there was amusement buried behind her large, black-lashes framed eyelids. Lush petal eyelids that covered chocolate irises. Irises that saw straight into your soul.

But seeing as how Bella had to drop off her truck first, they got into their separate cars. Bella gave him a lingering hug before they parted, pressing her lips to his chest. His heart fluttered against his ribcage, beating uncontrollably. He was a little embarrassed, thinking she could _feel_ his heart threatening to burst from his chest. But if she did notice it, she didn't say anything. Which was just like her, to be so considerate of everyone's feelings.

Being apart from her brought the thoughts back to the front of his mind. She could so easily leave him. In fact, if she asked, he would _let_ her leave. He might've been digesting her happiness now, but he would give everything up in order to appease her, Bella was the universe; she was light years of kindness and compassion. So, as he got into his car and started it, he waited until she'd gotten her truck started before backing out of his parking spot.

He allowed her to pull onto the road first, letting her guide him to her house. He felt a little restricted at the slow pace they were going—as her truck obviously couldn't go past fifty—, but he was glad to see that she hadn't tried to total his car yet. He had the irrational feeling that she was going to suddenly stop abruptly and let his car crash into the read of her truck. But she didn't.

At her truck-speed—which seemed very demonic in his head...the horrid slow truck-pace—they reached Bella's home in nearly ten minutes. The whole ride to her house he was muttering to himself, incoherent ramblings. To be honest, the ramblings were _always_ there...he was just pretty good at hiding them around Bella. He didn't want her to catch onto how mentally unstable he really was—though he was sure it must've been painfully obvious.

As Bella parked onto the grass lawn in front of her house, Edward kept his car running, pausing still on the asphalt road. She cut the engine off, hopping from the high-rise truck. Edward flinched as she sprung from the truck, her little feet hitting the ground soundlessly. He was half afraid that she would hurt herself.

But she didn't. She merely smiled and skipped over to his car, opening the car door before sliding in. She slammed the door as she sat herself in properly, then rubbed her hand over the leather dash lovingly. The moment she stepped a foot into the car, Edward's body relaxed. The tension left his shoulders and legs, flitting off to somewhere else in the world. A small smile flickered up from his thin lips.

"Hello again stranger," Bella greeted with a grin. Edward put the car in drive, pulling back onto the main road. With one hand on the wheel, he reached over to take Bella's hand. She played with their fingers, intertwining them.

"Long time, no see," He teased back. The houses streaked past, blurs of colours under a blanket of newly falling rain. The windshield wipers turned on automatically as the rain began to pour down harder, scrapping across the glass. Bella eventually closed her eyes, resting.

The drive couldn't go slow enough.

Soon enough, Edward parked in front of the library, slowing surely to a halt. Bella's eyes snapped open as he cut off the purring engine, her brown irises darting straight for him. Edward watched her cautiously as they both simultaneously got out of the car, before he rounded the Volvo and let her take his hand, dragging him into the giant stone, looming building.

The atmosphere inside the library was calm, yet stiff. Very stuffy, as if one wrong move could be considered an extreme social _faux_ _pas_. The floor was covered in a lush beige carpet, little tuffs of fluff spiralled into cute curls along the ground. Stacks of bookshelves were lined up against the wall, with more rows heading down the middle of the library. The bookshelves themselves were made from an ancient wood, coloured a dark mahogany.

There were two floors to the library, with a marble staircase leading up to the second level of more bookshelves. High above each section of bookshelves—hanging from fishing wire from the ceiling—were little plaques indicating the genre of the section. Each of the genres was spread far apart, signifying a wide selection of books. At the very front of the library though, where Bella and Edward were standing, was a desk with an old woman sitting behind it, smiling warmly at Bella.

Bella smiled back and pulled Edward past the metal detectors, nearing the staircase. The old woman's eyes widened when she saw Edward trailing after Bella, then narrowed in contempt. Edward immediately recognized her as Mrs Laurel Mallory, grandmother to Lauren Mallory—one of Mike's cronies—and an avid member of The Lady Chamberlain's Maidens—an organization in Forks dedicated to helping out charities around the state of Washington.

In short, Laurel Mallory was an old gossiping biddy with lots of connections and as much hatred and bitterness in her as her granddaughter. Laurel Mallory lived off connections—she sucked up to anyone in power in order to get on their good side. But behind her sweet, elderly face and charity-helping attitude, she was a self-helping bitch. Edward knew this first hand. He could count on both hands and past—_way_ into the double digits—how many times Laurel had managed to get him in situations to make him look like the bad guy.

They were little situations too, like the time when Laurel had asked him to help her cross the street. Edward—being a gentleman through and through, as taught to him by his parents—had graciously agreed, hoping that the old lady was trying to accept him instead of isolating him. His assumptions, of course, had been wrong, for the moment they'd walked to the corner of the street—where they were supposed to cross—and Edward had gently taken Laurel's elbow to aid her, Laurel had screamed at the top of her lungs, _"Don't touch me, you monster!"_

It'd taken three months and a lie detector test for Edward to convince the authorities that he _hadn't_ been attempting to mug the old bat. Since then—as the incident had taken place on his fourteenth birthday—, Laurel had done her goddamned best to ruin him at every opportunity. And with each of her shenanigans, the town had grown to hate Edward even more, save a few kind people.

"Why's she glaring at us?" Bella murmured to Edward as they ascended the staircase. He could see the strain in her legs—from walking—from the furrow between her brows and her gentle panting breaths. Even though her figure was slim—not at all the figure of someone who lounged on the couch all day—, it was soft. Obviously not the body of an athlete. Edward himself wasn't an athlete either, but he had no problem with the stairs.

"Not you," Edward mumbled back, "Just me. She hates me."

Bella's eyes were as confused as her voice, "Why? What'd you do to her?"

"I don't know. She just hates me. Much like everyone else in this town. I guess they just hate the way I look or something. I don't really know." As they reached the top of the staircase, Edward's troubled face relaxed, "But it's okay. I don't need them. I have you; my best friend forever." His face exploded in happiness and he pulled Bella close to him, wrapping her in a tight hug.

She giggled as he nuzzled his face into the crock of her neck, breathing in her potent scent. Edward's drunken-happy smile was buried tautly against her pale flesh, hiding it from sight. Again, as he showed no sign of ever letting her go, Bella reached up to lightly scratch his scalp, drawing a deep purr from his chest. The moment the purr began, his arms loosened and she was able to escape from them.

"And you're _my_ best friend," She pronounced brightly, "But you can have other friends. I don't have to be your _only_ friend. Obviously the people _here_ are dicks, but in college we'll make other friends." Edward shook his head fiercely as she pulled him to the very back of the library, past all the rows.

"No. No one's going to like me. It'll only ever be you. It only ever _has_ been you." He clutched her hand tightly as they walked, his eyes getting more intense with every word he said. Edward suddenly stopped breathing—though he was still following her—, afraid that he'd gone too far. But Bella didn't even grimace. Her eyes were ever friendly and full of fondness. She seemed to enjoy being in his company, no matter how messed up he was.

"Edward," She said, stopping suddenly in the middle of the top level of the library, looking grave, "_You_ are a good person. _Anyone_—and I mean anyone not in this stupid town—would love to be friends with you. Girls would give their left arms to date a sensitive guy like you. You've just had a lot of bad luck."

Though it was impossible for Bella to know, with each word _she_ said, he fell more in love with her. Her reassurances were covered in love—or at least, in his mind it sounded like it—and they wrapped around him. His smile must've been stoned-looking, because he _felt_ high. Both literally and metaphorically. His heart soared as she said that _any-girl-would-give-their-left-arms-to-date-him_. Did that include her?

Oh he hoped so.

They continued on to the very end of the library, with Edward towering over Bella's petite form. It was set in him now. He may have been a self-sacrificing coward, but he would be damned if he let anyone hurt Bella. He would _die_ to protect this girl. He would _kill_ to allow her to live—though he knew Bella would never want him to do such a thing. No matter what the price, he would pay it for Bella. And there was no doubting it.

At the very back of the library, instead of wooden tables and chairs, there were a couple of assorted bean bag chairs. Bella plopped down on one, and Edward quickly followed. He threw his backpack onto the floor in front of him, as did she, removing their homework. Her little fingers pressed against the cover of a workbook, gripping lightly. So very feminine.

_Because she's a her._

_And I'm an it._

_But together, we spell 'their'._

_As in, 'their happiness' or 'their love'._

_Or 'their time alone'._

_Which it was._

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Where was Shakespeare born again?"

--

A/N: Again, I'm sorry. But don't push me. Half of this chapter I didn't even like because it felt rushed. Please try to grasp this. I'm not a machine. I'm a human being—a _fourteen_ year old girl. And I can only focus on so much work at once. Thank you.

On a positive note, I _finally_ have a plot twist for this story! It came to me out of the blue—plus it touched pretty close to home—so I figured I would give it a try. I'll give you hints every now and then. Considering my other stories, it isn't too original, but it's original enough. If you guess it, you get five hundred points. Seriously. By the way, in case some of you know him, Sterling Knight can _sing_. Wow. I mean yeah, half his voice is probably tuned-up—because everyone in Hollywood does that—, but it's still amazing.

Cristina recently made a banner for this story. It's on my profile. Go check it out. I love it so much. The colours are perfect and everything else about it is fantastic! And, on another note, I _know_ Forks doesn't have a good library—it says so in the books—but for the sake of this story, let's say it does have a rather majestic library.

I've also been toying with the idea of reading my stories aloud. A few months ago, I fell in love with iFics—by —and I just was awed at the concept of reading Fanfics aloud. So, I've been thinking about the idea of creating a YouTube channel for just that—reading my stories aloud. Apparently I'm pretty good at reading this out loud—best mark in the class on my oral presentation yesterday—so I won't completely suck. But it's just an idea. Tell me what you think of it.

So anyway, review, review!!

--Breathless Tomb--


	8. Chapter 7: The Beating

A/N: Hello peoples. I'm back *winks* I know it's been awhile, but what can I say? I've been extremely busy lately. In fact, right now I should be doing my French project! But I'm not. I'm typing this up for you lovely folks. So, with thanks to the lovely Miss **Octoberland**, I give you, chapter seven...

**WARNING:** For anyone who doesn't like the mention of _child abuse_ (from other children, in this scenario), I highly suggest you skip this chapter. It isn't too graphic, but it's there.

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

--

**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Author: **Breathless Tomb

Chapter 7

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

--

"Stanford-upon-Avon, in England," Edward answered fluidly, taking his eyes off her for a moment to pull out a pencil from his bag, "And—before you ask—, he was baptised on the twenty-sixth of April, in fifteen-sixty-four." His eyes flickered back up to stare at her concentrated face as she wrote the answer down quickly. Bella shot him a quick and grateful smile.

"Thanks. I could've probably looked for a book over _there_," She motioned to a row of books underneath a plaque that read _'biographies'_, "But I'm kind of lazy. So thank you. Your help is greatly appreciated." Her voice turned mockingly business-like at the end of her speech, painting a much larger grin on Edward's face. He chuckled.

"I'm pretty good with Shakespeare," He said—not bragging, but informing her, as Edward wasn't really sure _how_ to brag—, "In case you need any more help. Every year we have projects on his plays."

"I can tell," She chuckled darkly, glaring at the paper in front of her, "I've done a project on Romeo and Juliet once...in seventh grade. But it wasn't the same as this. It was only a little oral presentation." Edward clung to her every word, listening intently instead of starting his Trigonometry homework, like he should've.

"Okay, so ask away."

"Alright...how does Shakespeare's fifteenth sonnet start?"

"_When I consider everything that grows, holds in perfection but a little moment, that this huge stage presenteth nought but shows whereon the stars in secret influence comment._"

"Excellent." Bella bit her bottom lip as she rewrote what he had said, "Mind repeating that again? But slower this time?" Edward nodded and repeated the lines for her, carefully enunciating each syllable. "Perfect. Now, what type of meter is the line, _'shall I compare thee to a summer's day?'_?"

Her eyes alit with incredibility, "So, what, you're some kind of Shakespearian genius?"

"Hardly. I did that paper last week."

Bella burst into a fit of giggles, clamping her hands over her mouth. At the sight of her lovely face sprinkled with joy, Edward too laughed, grinning crookedly at her. Bella slammed the workbook shut and teasingly hit him on the arm with it. At that little hit, even though Bella had meant it to be light and joking, the entire scene changed drastically.

Edward's smile was wiped clean away and he flinched violently. Bella watched horrified as an unmistakable pain filled his emerald eyes. It was something she'd never seen before, but could not be mistaken for anything less than pure fright. Memories—all sorts of them, from various dates and years— flashed before Edward's eyes; the memories that had scarred him so brutally...

***

An eight-year old Edward ran down the hallway, panting. His eyes frantically searched for a place to hide. He could hear _them_ running behind him, their footsteps getting louder and more vicious. It was a frightening thing, with his heart pounding in his chest. Blood dripped down from one of his nostrils, drawing a deep red line down his soft cheek—there was a light throbbing in his nose, but his mind was too occupied with _getting away_.

It was recess, so all the teachers had either gone outside to watch the kids in the courtyard or had journeyed down to the faculty lounge. Edward panicked, noticing all the doors had been locked tightly. His breathing was harsh, having just run up two flights of stairs. _They_ were still running up the stairs, but they were getting close now. He could hear their taunts—so vile and terrifying.

He tugged on the doorknob of his English class, the frustration building up inside of him. The steel doorknob wouldn't budge, wedged against the door. Anxiety churned in his stomach, rippling in taut circles. It was too much. They were too close! There was nowhere to hide! They were going to find him! A sharp keening noise escaped his parted lips, his eyes flickering around again.

Relief blossomed in his mind as he spotted the boy's bathroom. He made a mad dash for the door, slipping into the room just as the doors connecting the staircase to the main hall were pushed violently open. With his heart picking up a pace akin to a hummingbird's wings, Edward ran into the nearest stall and shut the door—not locking it, as that would seem too suspicious—, stepping onto the seat of the toilet. Luckily—or unluckily for the situation itself—for him, he was too short to be seen over the door.

"WHERE ARE YOU, CULLEN?" Mike Newton shouted from somewhere outside the bathroom. Edward's frantic heart lurched and he shut his eyes tightly, trembling all over. He was frozen in fear, silently crying to himself. Petrified to where he stood, he could only wait, hoping the bell—signifying the end of recess—would ring soon, so he could get to class safely.

Mike's loud footsteps echoed outside the tiny stall Edward cowered in. He hadn't entered the bathroom...yet, but it was only a matter of time. There were other footsteps too—Tyler and Jacob, Mike's two best friends and henchmen. Jacob had once been Edward's friend, but that had been long ago, before even kindergarten had started. Now, Jacob was a black hole in the middle of an empty space, waiting to destroy him.

And Mike was an asteroid field, ready to beat him to a bloody pulp.

Mike's footsteps suddenly stormed into the bathroom, along with Tyler's and Jacob's footsteps. There was a moment of pure silence, before...**BOOM**...one of the doors was kicked in. Edward's whole body recoiled, nearly slipping off the porcelains seat. Holding his hand against one of the walls though, helped him keep his balance. Another door was kicked open, the noise echoing in Edward's ears.

_Oh God, please don't let them see me,_ Edward thought desperately, _please!_ His tiny feet were shaking so hard now; they almost couldn't keep a secure hold on the bowl. He heard Mike's ever familiar voice yelling orders to Jacob and Tyler, telling them to look under the doors. Edward put his hand over his small mouth, trying his hardest to hold back the sobs.

"He's not here," Edward heard Tyler say to Mike. Mike growled something under his breath before stalking from the bathroom with his two goons. Without waiting for the hallways to fall silent, Edward let out a breath of relief. It wasn't a loud breath—honestly, it must've been as loud as a mosquito buzzing around for a fraction of millisecond—, but it caused a hushed silence to fall over the bathroom.

_You moron! You dumb idiot, _Edward's mind was screaming at him, filled with the deepest self-loathing. His tears fell faster and hotter, and his whole body screamed at him to lurch forward and lock the door. _But then they'll know I'm here for sure! And they'll just crawl under the stall! Please God, don't let them hear me!_

There was a shuffling of footsteps before the stall door creaked open. Edward whimpered in fear, his tiny body drawing into himself. The pudgy-face Mike Newton stood there, flanked by the two darker-skinned boys. There was a stupid smirk on Mike's face—a smirk that Edward had seen too many times before—and Edward backed up slightly, before losing balance and falling into the water-filled bowl. Mike advanced on him.

Edward never showed up for his next class.

Recess was only fifteen minutes long. For six of those minutes, Edward had been chased around the school by Mike and his friends. For the remaining nine minutes, Edward tried to remain conscious during the worst beating of his life. All in all, it'd been the worst fifteen minutes of his life, and he'd never felt so weak. So helpless. So...not in control. Desperate.

He'd been found an hour later with his bottom stuffed forcefully into the toilet bowl. Both of his eyes had taken on a plum colour, red around the rims. He'd been between a state of asleep and awake, hanging in the balance where he felt no pain at all. All the voices had been dimmed, a low roaring in his ears. The images too had been blurred; the world had taken on a peculiar fuzzy haze. Other than that, time held no sense to the boy. He simply hung there in his existence.

A broken rib.

A fractured wrist.

Two black eyes.

A broken nose.

Three teeth knocked out.

A concussion.

Not to mention he'd wet himself.

And Mike Newton had only received a week's suspension from school. Considering how most everyone already hated him—Edward, of course, not Mike—, not many people were quick to blame Mike. Tyler and Jacob hadn't even gotten into any trouble at all. They'd played their innocent little games, fooling everyone. So, in all, the three who'd hurt Edward so badly, had suffered the least.

That was the norm though. The only thing he knew.

You hid before you got hurt.

***

Bella carefully got up, crawling over to Edward. His eyes were still wide—glossed over, like he wasn't really _there_. There was pain in his eyes, and fear. A petrified fear. Cautiously, Bella placed one of her hands on Edward's shaking hand, trying to calm him down. He didn't seem to realize she was there at first—he wasn't aware of her presence. Bella raised herself to kneel before him, using her other hand to cup his cheek.

"Edward?" She whispered to him, ducking her head, "Are you alright? Can you hear me, Edward?" He blinked twice, coming back to life.

His next few movements were quick, almost blurs. In a second, he had Bella trapped in his arms, hugging her tightly to him. He was trembling, rocking back and forth. He was crying again—the sparkling tears spilling down his cheeks. Bella's eyes widened when she realized that his head was buried between her breasts, but she didn't try to pull back. It was obvious that Edward had no idea what he was doing.

"I love you," Edward mumbled into her chest, "I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you so much! Thank you for getting rid of Mike. You're the only one who ever cared. Thank you. Thank you. I love you." He was mumbling the same phrase over and over again, placing little kisses all over her neck. Bella squirmed and then reached a hand around to scratch his scalp. His grip loosened significantly, and he lazily nuzzled his face into her neck, letting her scent relax him.

"It's okay to love someone," Bella murmured to him softly, "I care for you too. That's why I'm your friend—I want you to be happy. You _deserve_ to be happy, and I promise to be here to make sure you're never sad."

"Don't leave me," Edward sobbed into her neck, "Please...don't ever go. You're my angel...and I can't lose you. You don't know how long I've been alone. I can't go back to that. I love you, my angel." Bella sat in his lap, kissing his cheek. Her heart ached for the broken boy in front of her. She kept silent though, because as much as she wanted to tell him that she'd never leave, she couldn't...because she couldn't predict the future...and she didn't know if circumstances in the future would force them to part.

She held him in her arms, allowing him to bury his face into her neck and place a kiss there every so often. Edward's eyes were like heavy clouds—filled to the brim with moisture, ready to spill over. His chest felt like it was imploding, caving in from the stress and pressure. His throat was tight, thick with sobs—both the raging held back sobs, or the few minor ones that escaped. Shame also swirled in his stomach as he became more aware of his earlier actions.

"I'm sorry for freaking out," He mumbled, closing his eyes, "I just...I don't know...I'm not used to people hitting me even lightly. I've never had a friend, so I'm not entirely sure what's right or wrong. I just...don't know." Bella shushed him.

"It's my fault, Edward. I should've known better. But I promise not to do that again." Her smile was friendly—she was trying not to worry Edward—, but in the depths of her eyes, Edward could see a slight pain. She would never admit it, but she really _did_ hate herself for causing him to become so terrified. It was the same self-loathing that Edward had seen on his own face every day...before he'd met _her_.

Wanting to comfort her, he picked Bella up, situating her better in his lap. Awkwardly, he started patting her hair softly, hoping to shower her with as much love as he felt that she showed him. Had he been in the right frame of mind, perhaps his comforting would've been...more comforting, but his ancient wounds were still fresh and raw from being ripped open. All he could think now was, _Bella. I love her. Please don't be sad, my angel. I'm so sorry!_

"It's not your fault," Edward insisted, "I'm sorry I'm messed up. I'm sorry I can't be a normal friend for you." He smiled sadly, sorrow colouring his tone and the shadows under his eyes. The cobwebs were tinged in dismay and melancholy, seeping through his pores into the very catacombs of his soul. They were tangled together, a mass of something he didn't know.

Again, Bella's face became stone cold and she twisted her body to better face Edward. Taking his face in her hands, she roughly brought his head down to glare at him. Edward baulked back for a moment before stilling. _She would never hurt me,_ he kept convincing himself, _she'd never be like them. Don't worry._

"You. Are. Not. Messed. Up," She growled, enunciating each word clearly, "You are _not_ crazy. You are _Edward_. If you were anyone else, I probably wouldn't like you. What's normal exactly? _Mike?_" She snorted a laugh, "If he's normal, then give me the strangest person you can find. I _hate_ Mike. If you were like him, I would hate you too."

For anyone else, her constant reassurances would've been annoying. Motivational speeches and friendship talks—who needed those? Of course, the answer was obvious. Edward did. Living life to the fullest was not an option. He merely needed to survive—and without Bella's meaningful words and presence, he _would_ be dead by now. At least...for now he needed her reassurances. Maybe later on he'd be strong enough to deal with it all on his own.

"I just want you to be happy," He whispered, as if he were telling her a secret, "I just want you to enjoy being in my company. If you want me to be something, I will—for you. I'll be anything you want, as long as you let me be around you."

"For as long as you want."

They sat in their silence for the rest of the time, with Bella leaning against Edward's chest. Her soft breaths were lulling him into a deep sleep, where his mind was no longer _there_—in the moment—, but was still with Bella. Her body pressed against his was something that seemed like it came from a dream—and he swore that if anyone ever pinched him awake; he would tear them to pieces, or himself. _He couldn't live without her..._

His real dreams came shortly after.

Dream-Bella stood there, her figure perfectly clear while the rest of his dream-world was merely a blur. Her brown eyes—and they were _oh-so_ full of depth—sparkled at him, a gentle kind of love. He looked down at himself, then gasped, seeing a tiny boy's body in the place of his seventeen-year old physique. Looking back up at her, his mind tried to wrap around the fact that it was _him_ standing there, and not somebody else.

_She_—dream-Bella, to be exact—walked forward, stopping in front of him. Strangely, in this tiny child's body, Bella towered over him, casting a dark shadow. He gulped, nervous as to what she would do. On one hand, he knew the Bella _he_ loved would never dare hurt an infant. She was the kindest, most giving person he'd ever had the upmost pleasure of meeting. But, on the other hand, now that he was in this child's body—no longer stronger than her petite little seventeen-year old body—, she could do anything she wanted.

Anything to hurt him, burn him, freeze him, beat him.

_She won't hurt me;_ he repeated in his mind, _Bella's a nice girl._ He nodded to himself, agreeing with his innermost thoughts. He watched silently as Bella kneeled in front of him, her deep eyes boring into his. She reached forward slowly—as one would do to pet an animal, as to not startle it—, and took his little hands in her own small hands.

"Hello," She whispered in an ethereal, breathy voice, "I'm Isabella. I'm going to help you, okay?" Feeling something in his body shift a little, Edward looked down and gasped. His clothes—consisting of a pair of cargo pants and a cotton shirt—were ripped and stained with blood. He glanced back up at her, panicked.

"Thank you," He said quietly, in a rasping voice, "What happened to me, 'Sabell?" He couldn't properly pronounce her name, and Bella smiled, as if she thought he was the most adorable thing. Edward giggled at her soft face, noticing that his voice was hoarse and thick, as if he'd been crying. Bella lifted her hand up to cup his cheek. The flesh of his cheeks stung, and he winced.

"It's alright, little one," She cooed, "You were hurt. But I'm going to help you now."

Tears spilt down his cheeks, slipping over the gentle hand that cradled his pale flesh—which was probably covered in bruises—and down a long arm. His child-self began to tremble, his lips tugging downward rhythmically, containing sobs. Bella shushed him, stroking back his hair. Chasing nightmares, the world spun around, until only _she_ existed. Even his small self knew this.

"I love you, Sabell," He mumbled, pronouncing _'love'_ as _'wuv'_, "Please don't leave me. Please."

"Never, little Eddie."

Dreams shifted, colours swirled. Edward's nose twitched, as he felt a small wetness being placed all over his face. Real-Edward—not the one from the dream—frowned, his eyes blinking open. The veil of a dream lifted off, pushing to the forefront of his mind into a little box. His lips quirked up into a smile as he realized that the pecking wetness was in fact a bunch of sweet little kisses. From Bella.

He opened his eyes.

She was staring back into his eyes, smiling.

"Hello again, stranger," She giggled. Edward sat up properly, his lips stretching into a larger smile. She was still seated in his lap, her workbook opened and all the answers filled in. The pencil was gripped tightly in her small hands, her dainty fingers wrapped lovingly around it. "Good dream?" She asked cheerfully.

Her optimism was his basic salvation.

"Well...you were in it..." He said slowly, stroking her hair, "So yes, it was a good dream." Bella chuckled and snapped her workbook shut, shoving it in her bag. Catching the hint, Edward too began packing up, letting Bella off his lap. The moment she got up though—putting distance between them—, he began to feel..._cold_.

_Cheerless..._

_Agonized..._

_Hold on tight..._

_For the ride..._

The misery began to seep in, collecting in his veins, clogging his arteries. The blood in his body stopped running, killing him in a soft, gentle way. Perhaps too soft. Either way, his eyes took on their usual dead state as she picked up her bag. He slung his backpack across his shoulder, fully intent on sulking away, when a small hand took his own much larger hand.

"Hey..." She said tenderly, "You want to come to my house for supper? I'm sure Charlie would love to meet you." Without letting him answer, she started to half-drag him to the front of the library, back down the stairs. Of course, she already knew what his answer would be. She could see it in his eyes, in his lips, in his voice, and in his grin.

_Yes, love._

--

A/N: Hmm...that took awhile to write. I guess I'm just lazy. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it *grins*

As of recently, I seem to have acquired a beta. Perhaps. And her name might be **octoberland**. And, I swear to God, if you don't go _now_ and check out her stuff, I hereby banish you from ever reading my work _ever again_. I don't know if that's a punishment, but if you didn't like this story, I'm guessing you wouldn't be at this chapter by now? Who knows? *Shrugs*

On a side note before I close this off, I absolutely agree with anyone who thinks that Zac Efron _could_ play Light in an adaptation of Death Note. Why, you may ask? Because, even though he was in HSM, he still has experience acting from other previous jobs, such as CSI, Summerland, etc. He isn't a Disney-child. He did things before. And he has the right look, the right voice. If you try to imagine it, he could play a _spectacular_ Light. I'm not a fan of his, but he'd be an amazing actor to be chosen for it.

--Breathless Tomb--


	9. Chapter 8: The Maps

A/N: Hey people, it's been awhile...sorry I haven't updated **Change Of Heart**, for all you fans. :P I've been _super_ busy, and school is hounding me with homework and projects. Since this story wasn't planned out in advance and everything seems to be happening slowly, they won't be sharing their first kiss—while Bella's awake—just yet. I hope you like this chapter...

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Author: **Breathless Tomb

Chapter 8

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

Edward's heart was thumping harshly as Bella pulled out her keys to unlock her front door. He resisted the nearly overwhelming need to sink his teeth into his lower lip—scared out of his mind, and rightfully so. His saving angel shot him a delectably reassuring smile—which made his inside parts flutter somewhat and squeal in happiness—, but his stomach still felt like it'd been filled with acid.

Bubbling.

Bursting.

Boiling.

While Chief Swan had never ostracized Edward the way the _others_ had—in fact, Chief Charlie Swan was probably one of the nicest people Edward had ever met in his short seventeen year lifespan, and Edward wondered if that was where Bella got it from—he was still _human_. And any _human_ within a ten mile radius was not a friend of Edward—besides Bella, of course, but Bella was an _angel,_ not a mere human.

Besides, Charlie Swan might've been nice to him in the past, but the moment he realized that Edward was now consorting with his little girl, that previous kindness would dissipate. No parent in the right mind would want their child associating themselves with _Edward Cullen_. Not the _diseased_ child. Not the _monster_ child. Not the _killer_ child. Not the _'mommy-I-think-there's-something-under-my-bed'_ child.

But...he couldn't blame any of them. He was purely vermin after all, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he was _just like everyone else_. Because he wasn't. He was a little infection—a diabolical little weed that had managed to grow into the blooming flowers of society. He didn't have any rite to the air these normal humans breathed in, or the water they drank, or the food they consumed. Simply Deplorable should've been his name, for he sat there and lived lavishly while another child somewhere _died_.

Infesting parasite.

"Stop fidgeting," Bella chastised him, finally opening the door. Her voice was warm though, holding only a light teasing tone. Edward's lips pulled up into a nervous half-smile. _Crooked_. Bella waved her hand, ushering him through the open door. Opening and closing his mouth a few times like a fish—as if he were going to say something—, Edward blushed lightly and stepped into the small but quaint Swan house. _No. Not house,_ he thought, _home. This is a home._

All around him were photos—color, sepia, black and white. They were happy photos; photos solely of Bella, or a little family of three like his own, or just two. In each of them though, Bella's expressive dark eyes entranced him, drawing him in like a beacon. Her bright, careless smile shook him to his core—a force to be reckoned with. There was something though...something that seemed to stand out immensely. In the row of Bella-only pictures—ranging from her birth to what appeared to be her sixteenth birthday—, there was a definite change in her smile between her fourth and fifth birthday.

Less toothy, more controlled. The genuine happiness seemed to fade and...ebb away.

"Edward?" The real Bella called out his name in confusion, snapping him out of his trance. In an instant, he was by her side, smiling eagerly down at the tiny girl. Her sparkling eyes were perplexed, but they held a sort of quiet-mischief. He tilted his head to the side, raising a single eyebrow. Bella shook her head and said nothing, grinning right back up at him.

Raising his head, he saw the dark silhouette of Charlie Swan at the end of the hallway. All his fears coming back to him, he gulped, suddenly terrified, feeling like he was going to choke on his larynx. In a most horrifying manner, the big man had his hands lightly resting over his hips, in a sort of _cowboy-drawing-gun_ stance. Worse even, he was still in uniform. Edward nearly pissed himself.

This was another _make-or-break_ moment. If Charlie didn't approve, Edward wouldn't dare disrupt this tranquil family again. Because he knew, he'd only destroy it. Bella would fight with her dad to let her hang around Edward, and if her father kept declining the matter, Edward knew Bella would immediately take action and ask to move out. As long as Edward wanted to remain her friend, he knew Bella would do anything in her power to stay near him.

He wouldn't let him tear them apart.

He wouldn't destroy another family.

"Hello, Chief Swan," Edward said formally, walking forward slowly and holding out his hand, "I'm Edward Cullen. It's nice to meet you." He resisted the urge to take in an anxious breath, trying to keep calm and steady. It was incredibly difficult, nearly an impossible task. Even as he fought to keep his expression neutral and collected, his hand wobbled and shook.

Charlie Swan's big—now narrowed—brown eyes—the exact same shade as Bella's—were locked on him; focussed so intensely that Edward was surprised he was a _human_ and not just a breathing statue. Fear was the highest emotion in Edward's body, making him feel lightheaded. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Charlie extended his large hand, grasping Edward's hand firmly and shaking.

"I know who you are," He spoke through a low, yet booming voice as he drew back his hand, "We've met. It's nice to _see_ you again, Edward." It unnerved Edward the way he put emphasis on _'see'_, but at the _very_ least, Charlie hadn't said anything negative to him yet. He allowed a small smile to grace his face at Chief Swan's apparent acceptance of him as Bella's friend, but he didn't let the smile grow _too_ smug or big, for fear of losing what little progress he'd made.

"I invited Edward over for supper," Bella said cautiously, gauging her father's reaction to her words, "We just came back from the library and I wanted to spend more time with him." Charlie's brown eyes told nothing, holding all his emotions away. A perfect poker face. It wasn't something unusual though. Charlie was a pretty good cop.

He gave a grunt before turning around and lumbering back into the kitchen. Before he left completely though, he paused and craned his neck back around to stare at Bella meaningfully. His lips barely twitching, he said, "If you're going up to your room, keep the door open." And then he was gone. Edward blinked, but relief remained his prominent emotion.

Bella blushed and smiled weakly up at Edward, shrugging her shoulders as if to say, _'what-can-you-do?'_ But at the moment, Edward couldn't contain the relief and everlasting joy in him. Charlie hadn't exactly _expressed_ his approval, but what he _had_ done, had been just as touching. Edward had expected screams, and yells, and glares, and _'I-disown-you'_s. But perhaps his expectations had been irrational.

Perhaps.

He wouldn't get his hopes up though.

Taking his hand gently, Bella guided Edward to the stairs, ascending them quickly. Not feeling particularly loquacious, he followed her up the stairs silently, his eyes drifting to her jean covered backside. He gulped, his eyes glued on it, swaying with each step. Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away, staring instead at the space above her head. His vision blurred as he stared too long and merely followed her.

Like a robot.

Honouring her father's request, Bella kept the door to her room open, throwing her backpack onto her bed. Edward stood at the door entrance awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. His thick brows pulled together as he watched Bella flop face first onto her bed, before rolling over onto her back. She gave him an amused look, arching an eyebrow.

"Well?" She inquired, "Are you just going to stand there?" Blushing red, Edward took a step into the room, being careful not to botch the rules by closing the door—like he was used to, and he actually physically had to _force_ himself not to shut the door. Still, he knew better than to blatantly go against her father's wishes. He was trying to make a _good_ impression as Bella's new friend.

Unsure still of what exactly to do, his eyes scanned over the room, taking careful note again of every nook and cranny. One of the most prominent things of the room was the fact that the walls were _covered_ with maps, and post cards, and photos of exotic locations. Nearly every square foot was plastered with overlapping pictures of what appeared to be travelling guides and information packages of _places_. Maps with pins in them—pin-pointing specific locations—and old plane tickets attached to a bulletin board.

"You like to travel?" He asked quietly, moving towards her bureau, where there were a couple of framed photos of a younger-looking Bella and what appeared to be her mother. The young girl was smiling brightly in each of the photos—though it still seemed forced—, her eyes excited. The real Bella—still lying on her bed—chuckled lightly.

"That's what I do," She chirped, and when he turned back to her, Edward noticed a soft smile playing from the edges of her full lips.

"Where have you been?" He could hardly recognize some of the places posted on her walls. Looking over her bed, he noticed a giant white poster board filled to the brim with location names—remote and popular cities, only very few checked off. The whole thing was titled, 'Places To Go'.

Bella hopped off her bed—leaving her bag to rest on the azure comforters—and strolled leisurely towards him, keeping her eyes on the wall. Standing beside him—pointedly looking anywhere _but_ into his eyes—, she clasped her hands behind her back and smacked her lips, her eyes gazing over the photos. Bringing an arm forward, she pointed a finger at one of the photos.

"New Zealand." She averted her eyes from the photo and looked at another one, pointing at it too, "Michigan. Guatemala. Greece. Italy." She smiled serenely, "That's it. It's not nearly enough for me though. I want to go other places, see new people, eat new food, and explore new locations! I never feel...at home anywhere, and I need to find the one place I do."

Edward absorbed this, his eyes still straying over the random photos of Bella—at various ages—enjoying her time _wherever_ she was. It was clear to him now that wherever Bella went, she managed to charm the people around her—brightening their days. He was now sure that it was a _privilege_ to be in her company, and that he had...absolutely no chance...of ever being with her.

Not when he was probably not the only person in love with her.

Not when she'd eventually grow bored of him, as she did with every new place she visited.

Not when she could meet _anyone,_ _anywhere_.

But whatever, in his books. He might've been selfish for wanting her company—when _clearly_ she deserved someone better suited for her (someone exotic and fun and adventurous)—, but he would _never_ be so horrible as to keep her from her obvious dreams. _No one_ should do that to her, and _especially_ not him. He would _encourage_ her dreams—buy her plane tickets for her birthday, take her on a cruise for Christmas. He wouldn't _try_ to force himself into her life plans, but if she allowed him willingly and without hesitation, then he would.

"I think I want to be a pilot when I grow up," She continued, her voice as wistful as a child's, "Or maybe a flight attendant—they get to fly places for free, you know, on their days off. My job would have to be something to do with exploring though—like a scuba diver. I'm just a curious person, I guess."

"That's pretty neat," Edward remarked quietly, unable to bring himself to look at her, instead choosing to finger the edges of a rumpled old photo of what appeared to be a seven-year old Bella at a beach.

She placed her little hand over his.

"You could come too...if you'd like," She murmured, "I'm a very...independent person, but you can't _always_ have fun on your own. If you'd like, you could always come travelling with me after graduation or during vacation. If you want." She added at the end, as if to make sure and not assume of what he wanted.

"Always," Edward promised. Finally, he turned his head to look down at her, noticing how close she'd come to him. Their hands were still joined together over the photo, and her head was leaned up too—lower than his head obvious, but it was a strangely intimate position.

He _wished_ he could hear what she was thinking. For the first time in his life, Edward desperately wished to be a mind reader—usually, he wouldn't wish this because he _didn't_ want to know what people thought about him. Now that he was older, Mike and his cronies no longer bullied him _quite_ as ruthlessly—broken ribs were a thing of the past now that a criminal record could be issued—, but that didn't mean words didn't hurt.

Still in their intimate position, Edward's head snapped up and twisted around as he heard a trail of loud footsteps outside the open door, then stop. Charlie stood there with his hands in the pockets of his flannel shirt—apparently, he had changed—, with an eyebrow raised at their display. Bella looked over her shoulder too and paled at the sight—which was an odd thing to see with her already pallid skin. Both of the teenagers took a step away, confirming any suspicions Charlie might've had. His dark eyes narrowed, and Edward could've sworn he saw traces of amusement in his chocolate irises.

"Supper's ready, Bells," He said in a low voice, breaking the silence, before turning on his heel again and walking off—his boots still _clunking_ heavily against the floor. As soon as they were certain he was gone, both teenagers looked back at each other, giving each other a strange look before breaking out in smiles and laughter.

Dinner wasn't exactly what Edward had expected. Charlie had graciously cooked and served them manicotti con carne, glazed with a mouth-watering tomato sauce. It was quiet as they ate, _yes_, but it was a pleasant silence, not awkward. Edward almost felt right at home, as if this were something he did on a regular basis. It gave him a tingly feeling inside to think of more dinners spent like this. But of course, he would have to start telling his parents so they didn't worry too much about where he was.

They made meaningless chit chat every once in awhile, filling in the silence. Edward learned that Charlie had been spending time with a woman named Sue Clearwater—who apparently had Bella's approval—, and that Bella's birthday had just passed on the thirteenth of September—and she hadn't yet made plans for Christmas, which Edward was especially thankful for.

"You should call Renée," Charlie said to Bella out of the blue, "She'll want to hear your voice after being away for so long." Bella frowned, stabbing her fork into the manicotti and cutting a piece off. Her lips were slightly stained from the pasta, but Edward found it endearing rather than disgusting.

"I don't like using the phone," She complained lightly with a pout, "It's awkward. No matter whom I'm talking to, I can barely stutter out three words and even ten seconds of silence feels like hours. I can email her."

Charlie shook his head, "Sounding like a machine won't improve your relationship."

"Our relationship is _okay_...we just don't see eye to eye on certain things." Realizing that Edward didn't understand a word of what she was saying, she turned to him and explained, "Renée—my mother—and I fight...a lot, about idiotic, senseless things. That's why I came here—to cool things down for awhile." She sighed, lowering her eyes to her food, "We got in a...spat before I left, so I don't think we can talk just yet."

Edward nodded in understanding, scooping up a forkful of manicotti and popping it into his open mouth. Though he'd never had any problems with his parents—for the most part, he avoided them, choosing to isolate himself—, he did understand how it was to...live with a person—or people, in his case—who couldn't respect anything he did. Though...to be fair to himself, his situation was much worse.

Much, much worse.

He wasn't really sure what to say to her though. She seemed so forlorn, so torn apart—and it killed him, seeing her eyes so filled with melancholy. But he'd never _had_ to comfort someone before—heck, he hardly ever comforted _himself_. Like a homeschooled child who'd never learned to socialize, Edward was in way over his head in this territory. _Perhaps there's a book I can read on this,_ he thought.

"I'm sorry," He said quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on his place mat. The floral-tile design was quite beautiful, in his opinion, and it distracted him somewhat. It appeared Charlie too wasn't too keen on emotional conversational developments, when not a word came from the big man.

"It's okay," Bella said, shrugging off the apology, "I don't really care—I just don't want to speak with her just yet."

More silence followed after her words, and Edward began to sense some tension in this new silence. He desperately wanted to check what time it was—not because he _wanted_ to leave, he just didn't want his parents worrying too much—, but he felt like it would be rude to ask. Toying with the idea for a second, he finally opened his mouth—fully intent on asking—, when Charlie said aloud:

"So...who wants apple crumble?"

Edward smiled.

Surely he could stay for a bit longer.

A/N: Okay, so here's the next chapter as I promised you guys (or any of you who actually read **Change Of Heart**). Kay so...I'm not really sure what to write in this box. I'm having a family thing today since it was my birthday on the fourth and my mother wanted a little party.

Obviously I'm not going to have fun.

Parties are not my forte.

By the way, I don't like this chapter very much. It seems rushed and uneventful. I just wanted to show more about Bella's character and what she loves to do, since this is now a big part of the rest of the story. Bella's travelling dreams are going to make it big.

--Breathless Tomb--


	10. Chapter 9: The Breakdown

A/N: School's finally over, so I'm very and truly sorry I haven't been writing a lot recently. I have a new original story that I'm starting, and it's a combination of a bunch of old stories I've written, so it's going by pretty well. I'm even using the original characters made up for the original **The Core Of Fear** (which, disappointedly, couldn't be finished because it became a nuisance). I've done a bit of thinking, and I decided I'm going to take this story one step further. Prepare for things to get really insane. It's called **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination** for a reason...

It's time for you to see how deep this rabbit hole goes...

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

...

**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Author: **Breathless Tomb

Chapter 9

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

...

_Why are you breaking me?_

**This**_ is breaking me._

_Life is breaking me._

_And you are only helping._

Edward lied awake in his bed, sweat clinging to his body. _Things_ passed before his eyes—things that made no sense to his already scrambled psyche. He saw blood and bone and chains and **breaking points** and deception ringing in between the sheets of _whatever_ was going to happen in the future. His vision was slipping in and out. Even to him, the sense in this wasn't quite there. The darkness of his room was made up of trillions of tiny pixels.

_I can't control myself anymore._

_The math isn't adding up here._

_You shouldn't exist._

_I do exist._

_But not here._

He shot up in his bed, his breaths coming out in ragged pants, his eyes taking in the room around him in panic. Everything was where it was, and everything that was not was surely glad to never be there in the first place. Edward smacked his palm against the side of his head, trying to unscramble his stupid brain. Everything made no sense when Bella wasn't around. Another smack. _You need to stop thinking about her, _the spiders in their webs hissed, _things are only getting worse. She may be your cure, but if you don't get out now..._

_She might also be your kryptonite. _

The spiders hung low from their webs, coming down to rest upon the very flesh of Edward's face, crawling over to his ears, whispering these deadly words. Edward shook his head, a whine escaping his throat as he looked around again in desperation. There was something going wrong somewhere, and it was making him sick and dizzy and he was sweating profusely against the thick cotton of his pyjamas. He struggled quickly to shed himself of the constricting fabric, throwing it off his bed to the floor.

Shakily, he got to his feet, now only dressed in his forest green boxers, making his way quickly to his bathroom. The room was far colder now than it'd been a couple seconds ago, but perhaps that was all in his mind. What did he know anyway?

He was _insane_.

_They_ said so. Those _snakes_ who tricked him over and over—opening their arms as if in acceptance before bringing their arms down harshly, crashing into him violently. Those people—the ones who judged and dictated his life as if he was merely their puppet to play with—, they accused him of heinous crimes he'd never once committed. He had nothing to say in response though, because killer or not, there was no appeasing the townsfolk.

His reflection in the bathroom mirror was ghastly. There were deep purple circles under his eyes—motherfucking purple, which almost looked as if he'd recently broke his nose, although the last time had been years ago—and his cheeks were sunken in. His ever-green eyes were bloodshot—perhaps from crying, or a ruptured blood vessel. It was three o'clock in the fucking morning, and sleep didn't seem to be coming anytime soon.

Against his better judgement...as if he had any these days...he opened the mirror cabinet and pulled out the orange bottle. Popping the lid, he allowed a couple pills to spill from the small container into his hand, before replacing the bottle back in the cabinet and shutting it. With one last look into the mirror, he placed the first pill on his tongue, swallowing it quickly, feeling the tiny lump slide down his throat.

Pill; swallow. The routine continued until he took the exact appropriate amount.

_We need to heal you._

_You've slowly twisted yourself until you were..._

_Nothing more than the remains of a figment._

Perhaps he'd taken too much. His vision was already beginning to blur as he shambled back into his room. His bed seemed to be farther and farther from him with each step. Each step felt as if there were heavy weights on his feet. And...as he found it...he was soon sprawled across the floor, his vision blackening until there was nothing left but the darkness behind his eyelids.

...

"_Edward...are you there?"_

_His eyes weren't open, but he could vaguely see blurry shapes, as if they were behind a curtain. There was a definite female, her build short and thin, much like Bella. And there was a couple—a man and a woman. They all seemed to be facing him, dark shapes hovering over him._

"_That's right, Edward...you're almost there!"_

_Who were these people? Why couldn't he see them? Better yet, whose so-familiar voice was calling out to him? It was...heavenly, and he was already addicted to it._

_No. No. No. No. He had Bella. He only wanted Bella. He didn't want anyone else with such a sweet, chiming voice. Oh God...he was going to hurt Bella. He couldn't control his bodily urges and now he was going to hurt Bella in the worst possible way._

_But it wasn't like Bella wanted him that way anyway._

"_No, Edward! Don't leave us! You're so close!"_

_Fuck you, woman with your beautiful voice._

_You'll never entrap me._

Edward woke up.

His cheek was pressed painfully against the floor and the moment his eyes snapped open, he was blinded by the sun seeping in through his open window. His breaths came out hard and fast and sharp—the heart in his chest pumping furiously. For a couple of seconds, it was hard for him to tell if he were still in his dream or awake at last.

Differentiating came with a price. Now with Bella in his life, he was happy to stop living in a dream world. But before...the Before Bella time, when he'd been lost and giving up hope...he'd loved his dreams and _wished_ to remain in them forever. This sudden switch in wants...it was odd to him.

He wasn't sure if he liked it.

"Edward, breakfast!" Esme called from downstairs. Deciding to heed his mother's wishes, Edward carefully sat up, wincing and rubbing his cheek once he realized how sore it really was. What an idiotic move it'd been to take sleeping pills. Of course, he had slept longer and better than he ever had before.

Rising to his feet, Edward stretched out his tense muscles, hearing the bones crack in awakening. Realizing that he was nearly naked—wearing only his boxers, as he'd stripped himself almost completely last night—, he threw back on his pyjamas.

He was out of his room and down the stairs in moments; Esme and Carlisle were downstairs in the kitchen, with matching smiles as he joined the living. Edward, finally unable to stop the joy he'd been feeling from exuding, smiled back crookedly, taking a seat at his normal place. He allowed Esme to come over and engulf him in a hug, running a hand through the bronze-locks that covered his skull.

"Nice to see you up," She said softly, then went back to the kitchen-area—not where the table was—in order to grab him a plate of bacon and eggs. Edward's mouthed watered as it was placed in front of him. Sunny side-up eggs and the crispiest bacon he'd ever seen.

"How was dinner with Bella last night?" Carlisle asked tentatively, not sure how to approach the whole situation. The two parents of this broken boy had never seen their son so happy—so not dying on the inside—, and they found it ridiculous. But a joyful ridiculous. The kind of ridiculous that made them want to find Bella Swan and shower her with gifts and _'thank you's_ and the love they wanted their son to always carry inside of him.

"It was great," Edward said with a grin, stabbing his fork into the egg before cutting off a bit and popping it into his waiting mouth, "The Chief made manicotti con carne. I didn't know he could cook so well." His eyes refused to meet theirs now.

It was so odd to now see the world in colour—which he realized he now could—instead of the shades he'd long become used to. They were all so vibrant and alive! Esme's caramel-brown hair. Her matching green eyes such as his. Carlisle's pale skin just shades lighter than Bella's own. The colour of the walls and chairs and eggs and sunlight. Who knew just how much he'd been losing this entire time?

"Are you meeting Bella again today?" Esme asked, and her voice was choked, almost as if the words didn't quite want to come out. Edward looked up in confusion and nodded. At his nod, his mother broke down into tears, holding herself up by gripping onto the counter. Carlisle immediately sprang to his feet, going over to comfort his wife.

In the situation, Edward couldn't imagine what had made his mother so sad. He hadn't done anything to make her disappointed, had he?

And then it dawned on him. His newfound happiness. Of course; his mother was crying because she couldn't believe her monster of a son could ever find joy. She didn't _want_ him to find joy. Both her and Carlisle found happiness in seeing their son suffer and _hated_ the fact that he was no longer willing to give up his life. It was the only logical reason she could be sobbing so violently right now, especially in the context of what they were talking about.

But he couldn't blame them. With all the suffering _he'd_ given _them_, Edward didn't at all condemn them for the gloom they were feeling. If he were the father of himself, Edward was sure he'd feel exactly the same. Misery clouded Edward's expression and he slowly got up from where he was sitting, intent on leaving his two wonderful parents to weep in peace. Only four words made him pause where he stood.

"Where are you going?"

These words came from Esme—the same Esme who was currently crying her eyes out, her beautiful emerald eyes red-rimmed from the disappointment she was surely feeling. Confusion overwhelmed Edward. Why did they care where he was going? Weren't they currently enduring the worst kind of agony because—once again—he failed their expectations for him?

Esme saw his face as he turned around and without another word, sprinted for him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Edward froze in place, even as Carlisle watched from his spot behind the kitchen island. _This made no sense!_ With delicate hands, Esme grasped Edward's face, tilting it down in order to place a kiss on his forehead. This confusion was going to make him sick, of that he was sure.

"I'm so happy for you," Esme whispered in a voice cracking at every turn, "I've never seen you...and now you're...and I can't even... Oh God Edward, I'm just so happy for you! Never let this Bella girl go!"

And though it was probably wrong of her to ask Edward to _never_ allow Bella to go, she couldn't possibly understand how much he wanted to do _just_ _that_. For once in his life, Edward actually _saw_ his mother. He saw the woman who'd been struggling for years to cope with the fact that her son hated himself and was hated equally by everyone else in the town. He saw the woman who'd woken up each morning, contemplating just packing up everything and leaving this dreaded town, and taking Edward and Carlisle with her.

Edward looked up. And then he saw Carlisle, the man who'd always insisted that they shouldn't leave. The one who always promised that something miraculous would happen to Edward. The one who foresaw Isabella Swan's arrival, and knew that without her, Edward would continue to live his life in self-hatred.

And for once, Edward saw them both. For once, Edward saw nothing else except the love they both felt for him equally.

...

"Sleep well?" Bella asked him as they met up by her locker. Edward gave a small smile and nodded, not even noticing the other assorted people passing by them. The incredulous looks were still there—etched on each of their faces separately—, but Edward clearly didn't give a hoot. Perhaps he didn't even notice them. Who could blame him? For once, he saw their _true_ colours.

And he wasn't so impressed by what he saw.

"How about you?" Edward asked in return. He absolutely refused to let her know about the dream he'd had. Even if she _didn't_ love him, he wouldn't let her know that someone else's voice had attracted him the same way hers did. That was unacceptable. Under any circumstances. Bella knew of his love for her, and he _never_ wanted her to doubt it in any possible way.

"Pretty much," She nodded, grabbing her books from her locker before shutting it softly, "My dad thinks you're a pretty swell guy, by the way. Much better than Mike Newton. He thought you were extremely polite last night at supper." Several people who'd been eavesdropping froze at the word _'supper'_. But who could blame them? They'd grown up with this hatred and disgust for the rusted-metal haired boy, no matter how pretty he might've been, or how polite.

Because he was a monstrous killer and killers didn't deserve sympathy or love. That was the logic of their minds. And they'd always believe him to be a monster. Never would they give him a reprieve.

At least, that was the logic of Edward's mind.

"That's good." Edward forced a smile. He believed Bella completely—his angel would never lie to him; at least he hoped so—, but he wasn't sure if Chief Swan had let some information spill. Despite never having a long conversation with the man himself, Edward had been around Chief Swan more times than he could count. For various reasons. Mostly having to do with people framing him for things he didn't do or for being brutally hurt by those who hated him.

Namely Mike.

Perhaps that was why Chief Swan didn't hate Edward like the others did. He witnessed firsthand the torture the young boy had to go through every day. Maybe it'd given Charlie some time to properly pity Edward.

The bell above them rang.

"I'll see you later," Bella promised, then stood up on her tiptoes to lightly kiss him on the cheek. Edward smiled and closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of her plush-pillow lips pressing against his bare skin. He could practically _feel_ the countless eyes on him and Bella; he could _feel_ their extreme disbelief, their aghast, their shock, their denial.

But it was physically impossible to deny what was right in front of their faces.

With his head higher than it'd ever been before—this true colour thing was really beginning to help him—, he walked off to class.

And from then on, everything went fine.

First class, second class. Recess. Third class, fourth class. Lunch time. Fifth class. Sixth class.

It all went by better than it ever had before in his entire life. His soul—his essence—was calm, radiating peace and tranquility. Could anyone have foreseen this? Carlisle had, but even Carlisle couldn't have known just how well Bella had been for him, even after only knowing her not even a full week. No one could've. And Edward could tell that everyone hated him for it.

They hated him for corrupting Bella.

But what did he care? He loved Bella.

He loved. Loved. Loved. Loved. Loved. Bella.

After his last class, Edward was on his way to his locker—having had to stay a little longer after class to finish his in-class assignment—, hoping desperately that Bella hadn't left already without saying goodbye to him. Anxiety had wiggled its way into his soul, reminding him that at any time she could chose to stop being friends with him. Stop being anything to him.

Then he heard some voices...

"What are you doing with Cullen, Bella?" He recognized the voice easily. It was Jessica Stanley, the girl he'd always hated and never liked, but who still went around the school telling everyone how obsessed Edward Cullen was with her. It was disgusting. For weeks, Jessica had had everyone convinced that Edward was madly in love with her and she was scared for her very life.

Ridiculous.

The voices continued.

"He's like, a fucking lunatic." This was Lauren Mallory. "Do yourself a favour and just don't bother with him. He's a fucked up freak."

"Look guys..." His Bella spoke, her cupcake and rainbow voice bordering on irritated, "He's always been nice to me. I don't know what you're—"

"He tried to like, mug my grandmother when he was fourteen, Isabella. She was traumatized." Fucking Mallory. Edward pressed himself up against the wall, listening to the conversation taking place around the corner. His entire body was stiff, trying to hear every word Bella said.

"Was he prosecuted?" _Oh Bella, you smart girl..._

"His parents paid off the police so they dropped all charges."

"You sure? I could ask my dad about that."

There was a few beats of silence where Edward rejoiced. She was sticking up for him! The cobwebs that were slowly winding around his judgement loosened a bit—just enough for him to know that this was a good thing that was happening. But doubt soon fogged over...

"It doesn't matter, Swan," Jessica sneered, "We're looking out for you here. Edward Cullen is a fucked up freak who obsesses over every girl he finds remotely pretty. You're not the first and we just don't want him to hurt you." This doubt began to clog his mind. Would Bella believe her? If she ever knew about the kiss he stole and the scarf he stole soon afterwards...then she definitely would.

"Hope you have fun with your murderer, Swan. Whenever he like, pulls out a knife on you, don't bother letting us know. We warned you." And then they were gone, heels clacking in the opposite direction. Away from Bella. Away from the crumbling Edward.

"Murderer?" Bella whispered softly, and in that moment Edward broke.

Every ounce of self-esteem he'd gained in the past day shredded away, flowing somewhere safe and _not with him_. Because they were right and now Bella believed them. He was a useless, fucking murderer who deserved to be beaten to a bloody pulp and thrown into a black hole to be stretched painfully for an infinite amount of centuries.

And he would never deserve Bella or anyone at all. In fact, without Bella there _was_ nothing for him. But he could never have her because she was light and goodness and everything that someone ever stood for, and he was everything that people revolted against. Her heart pumped blood and love, and she was made up of puzzles and integrity instead of bones and muscle; and he...he was full of cobwebs and hatred, the things people wished to never see again.

Edward slid to the floor from where he was leaning against the wall, covering his face as sobs began to wrack his body. Tears split down his cheeks, falling to the floor with _ping, ping, pings_ which made him sick to the stomach. _WHO WAS HE TO EVER FEEL EMOTIONS?,_ his mind screeched, _WHO THE FUCK WAS HE?_ There was a soft gasp from around the corner, and little footsteps ran in his direction.

When he opened his eyes, she was there. When he closed them, she was still there. Her image was imprinted in his mind and the agony of everything was finally catching up with him. The injustice and the self-hatred and everything he'd ever felt in his life was intensifying and multiplying, and if Bella wasn't his angel he would've hated her for causing this rupture in him. Two new delicate hands—but equally as soft as his mother's—grasped his face and a petite body straddled his lap.

"Edward?" Bella's voice whispered, trying to draw him from the dark corner in his mind he was hiding in, "Edward...please? Sweetie, are you okay? Please don't cry, please don't..." Her voice was never louder than a murmur, always comforting. Always a rope from which he could grab onto and be pulled to safety.

"Don't cry, Edward. Please, it's okay. I'll never listen to anything those fucking skanks tell me; they're full of shit and lies anyway," She whispered to him, pressing her lips to his forehead just as his mother had hours before, "Don't believe them. I'm so sorry you had to hear that."

"Y-you shouldn't...fucking...b-be fucking-g a-a-around me," Edward sobbed, his voice a harsh and rough blubber of tears that melted together with kisses, "I'm-m a fucking NO ONE. S-so fu-fucking sorry I've r-ruin-ruined everything."

There was more silence, but Bella didn't leave him. Not once did she get up and give up on him. Not once did she pull back and call him the names he knew everyone else called him. Not once did she do anything other than hold him and kiss his tears away and confuse him about what she wanted to be to him. Edward's hands were clenched into fists, resting against the floor, shaking with the restraint of not lashing out and hurting something—preferably himself—, but he wouldn't risk lashing out with Bella around him.

"No," Bella finally stated, pulling back from placing kisses on his skin to stare into his now open eyes, which were bleeding tears, "You're NOT a no one. You're my Edward. My Teddy Bear. You're everything and don't you dare think you're not good enough!" She was crying now too, her eyes gradually reddening from the tears that spilt down her porcelain cheeks, leaving red marks in their wake.

But, as much as he wanted to believe her words, Edward had always lived in a world where he was forced to believe he was a no one and that he wasn't good enough. The injustice of it all was unfair and it should never have been placed on such a young child, but who could've solved it? Bella had never been there. She'd never been there to help little Edward up when he'd felt like the only person in the world who'd ever felt such pain.

Because they lived in a world where the real monsters—the ones who weren't Edward—lived in plain sight, and wore sweet smiles on their faces before they went in for the kill. They lived in a world where you couldn't rewind time or just forget everything because it wasn't fair to have to remember those things. And as much as Edward wanted to believe those words that the love of his life said, he couldn't, because that would mean forgetting all the pain he'd ever felt.

And that was when his Sabell placed her lips against her Teddy's lips and kissed him with everything that she had inside of her.

...

A/N: I loved the ending of this chapter. I needed to just have a point where Edward broke and Bella broke with him, and that seemed like the perfect moment. I almost have the entire plot for this story written out and I find it amazing! Ugh. It's so good. I want it to become a real person so I can hug it and squeeze it.

Is that weird?

Whatever. It's that good. I hope you all liked this chapter! The dream sequence thing will make sense in later chapters, unless you already guess it.

-Breathless Tomb-


	11. Chapter 10: The Kiss

A/N: C'est been awhile, non? I hope you all are having good times and such. I just recently finished my original story (it's so good that I squeal every time I reread it). One of my best friends wrote a story. The title is a Latin phrase, but the story is by **Blood Red Tulips**. She's on my _Favourite Authors_ list. Go check her out if you love me. Or even if you don't. Bye bye...

Summary: Edward Cullen, the result of bullying. Enter one Miss Bella Swan. She turns his world around, shows him a new side to life. But…what if, she turned his mind around too? AU/AH. ExB.

...

**Title: **The Cobwebs Of His Imagination

**Rating: **M

**Author: **Breathless Tomb

Chapter 10

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

...

In the beginning, there was nothing.

There was a blankness, an empty space where nothing existed and even _that_ nothing didn't exist (which was a double negative, but made sense if you thought really hard about it) because there simply was not _anything_.

The most inconceivable blankness, yet it existed.

And then, there was everything.

A cataclysmic eruption of matter and particles (and it was only cataclysmic because of the eruption itself and the damage—or perhaps the progress, depending on your point of view—it created). From an existence—or non-existence—of nothing, there was suddenly _everything_, and the event became known as the Big Bang.

And, in Edward, as Bella's lips pressed firmly against his own, he felt his mind do the exact same thing.

Like fireworks taped to his eyelids, or like pop rocks beneath his tongue, it exploded in unimaginable flavours and colours. Her lips were just as soft and plush as he remembered them from the meadow—perhaps even more so, but either way, they were nice and feathery against his own.

How had he ever before thought his life changed? Of course Bella's presence in his isolated internal little world had been miraculous on its own, but surely not as life-changing as _this_. He was not even sure what to do—how to move his lips, if he should move at all, if he should pull back and tell her about his feelings entirely, or if he should simply act as if he'd done this before (which, technically he had, but not to this extent).

But he possibly didn't need to react or think at all, for the moment _Bella_ realized what she was doing (she'd probably acted without thinking her actions through), she pulled back hastily, staring at Edward with wide eyes. He did the same, but Edward's eyes were surely filled with wonder and shame—shame for having to make her pull back, for whatever he'd done wrong.

"..." Bella slowly moved her hands to place them over her lips. The phrase, _thou shall not speak evil_, passed through Edward's mind. He was probably still a bit loopy from the unexpected kiss. In his strange sort of mental disarray, he placed his hands over his ears. The phrase, _thou shall not hear evil_, passed through his mind as he did so.

He meant it to be funny and lighten the mood, and it worked. Bella giggled, dropping her hands from covering her mouth and simply smiling at him with the warmest sort of tenderness in her eyes. Could Edward melt from such warmth? He felt like he might, and the feeling was not altogether unpleasant. In fact, he relished in it.

Subsequently, he dropped his hands from his ears, attempting to smile back at her even despite the tears still lingering in his eyes. What else could he do? Now that this...transition (or whatever it was) had happened, he could no longer deny her anything. Not even the smallest of smiles—the smiles that would be forgotten in time, or memories to never be reviewed again.

Because what use were smiles? He'd never needed them before.

But he needed them for her.

The two of them stared at each other, neither one knowing the exact protocol of what to do next. Neither one of them was experienced enough in such an element to act completely naturally, as if this were nothing new. And at the same time, this pleased each of them, to know that the other didn't know what to do either.

Instead of doing what he probably _should've_ done (which would've been to act like a responsible gentleman and get up, offering to take Bella home), he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the tip of her ski-slope nose. In response, Bella scrunched up her nose, her smile widening. His actions—though probably could be perceived by others as hasty and done without thought—were exactly what she needed and exactly what she wanted.

They were natural and comforting, and neither of the two of them could find one wrong in anything they'd done. It was so...normal, something that they probably should've done a long time though (though Edward hadn't known Bella a long time ago). To anyone else, the feelings they were feeling might've been considered unusual or something extraordinary. But to them...it was just natural.

There should've been a word for how natural it was for them to be together this way.

It was just a lexical gap. Edward swore that if he could ever invent a word, he would (he wasn't sure how to go about that though).

"I need to go home," Bella suddenly whispered.

"Me too," Edward whispered back.

Was this some sort of top-secret conversation? If not, then why were they whispering? Surely there was no one left in the school to overhear them. But, whatever the case, the two felt the need to do so. So they did. And it was done. Edward felt himself smile again, though it was probably unnecessary. Bella did the same, and probably felt the same way.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" He almost sounded like he was begging. If Edward had any pride left, he would've been mortified by his tone. But he didn't have any left. At least, not in regards to Isabella Swan. Probably not in general either, but that was up for debate.

"Only if you want to," She said.

"I do."

And it was done.

...

The next day was better. It was better in ways that made Edward's soul feel lighter, not as black and damp as it usually felt. Perhaps it was irrational of him to assume, but he felt like the rest of...however long he might be alive and with Bella, would be fantastic. Without pain or sorrow. And this thought...this thought pleased him to his very core, because it gave him an unknown feeling.

A feeling of hope.

Edward didn't really know what such a feeling could be. All his life he'd gone on thinking that things would never change, that people would never tire of the games they liked to play with his already weakened psyche. But...as things had been looking down, they were suddenly looking up. Could hope suddenly erupt from such a nothingness?

Well...if planets and stars could, then surely the small feeling of hope could.

"Morning," Bella said to him as Edward met her at her locker. She adorned a grey pea-coat, which she was lightly shrugging off. Edward wished she didn't have to—the pea-coat hung to her lovely figure with the same care as Edward wanted to cling onto her, although he restrained himself.

"Morning," Edward greeted back, smiling lightly. He was holding his books under his arm, waiting for Bella to be done with her routine. Above them, the bell suddenly rang. Edward frowned minutely—Bella had arrived to school late and now they'd have no time to talk until second period (not like they were _allowed_ to talk much in class anyway).

Bella saw the disappointment on his face and blinked. "Don't worry, it's only an hour," She said reassuringly, with a smile of sweetness pulling her lips up. Her eyes looked torn for a moment before she leaned up and caught Edward's lips in a brief kiss. He froze for a moment and then lightly kissed back.

When she pulled away, her cheekbones were splashed with blood, turning them a faint pink. Edward's were too, and he felt ridiculous blushing—he'd long ago got over his need to blush from the humiliation he received from the _others_ (but this wasn't humiliation, he had to remind himself; this was bliss).

People gaped at the display. Some of them even stopped in the middle of the hallway just to stare blankly at Bella and Edward, not believing what they'd just seen. Of course, they'd all anticipated this...but none of them had...seen it coming this early. Or they'd been hoping against it. Edward reasoned that it was probably the latter.

"Bye," He said once before Bella had to go. He took a step back and found his chest aching. No, not aching. Something felt like it was tearing.

Tearing and pulling and breaking. It was all those sentiments pilled together into one—and Edward didn't know which individual one was worse. And as he looked between them, white silky threads caught his eyes. They were wrapped in arcs around the two teenagers.

The spider webs now clung to Bella, weaving themselves around her. But they still clung to him as well, which caused them both to be connected to each other. Not literally of course, but his mind was something warped and twisted.

He was no longer the sweet, innocent Edward that had existed at five years old. He was something _more_—something that, for the longest time, had seen in colours and had voices whisper things into his ears. Things to trick and distract him, or perhaps put him on the right path; but the voices were always malicious and told him things that...made his twisted mind even more twisted.

And no one ever noticed—not even himself at some points—because they never cared enough to truly stare deeply into him. No, not that they didn't care enough, they just didn't look hard enough. Not even Bella had.

But maybe she didn't want to, because she didn't want to see what truly lurked beneath his flesh. He would not hold that against her.

Mike was there, in his first period class. It was the first time Edward had seen him since the Incident (where he'd finally gotten justice for being picked on all these years) and...Mike didn't look nearly as threatening as he had all the other times. There was a thick bandage pulled over his nose and dark circles under his eyes. Edward would've snickered—it was a funny sight to see—, but he found that he really just didn't care.

The blonde boy in question glared at the redheaded boy as he entered the classroom. Instead of feeling threatened by it though, Edward merely felt...unconcerned, which was something that he was not used to. This was the start of something good, was it not? There was pride growing inside of Edward now—how had he ever let this stupid, weak boy (so easily vanquished by a thin, sweet woman) get to him?—and he allowed himself to bask in it.

"Good morning, Mike," Edward said casually to the boy with the broken nose, forcing a fake smile on his face. Mike's glare only worsened, but there was a hint of surprise in his eyes. He was probably questioning where Edward had gotten such a backbone.

_Well, it should be obvious,_ Edward thought in amusement. He went to take a seat at his usual desk, closing his eyes and immediately going into daydream mode. It was the only mode he seemed to want to go into. His studies would have to wait until later. _Later when?,_ Edward questioned himself; _when will I be over this? And do I want to ever get over this?_

Perhaps these things were too difficult to question. So why should he?

Second period came quicker than Edward had originally anticipated (he expected this to be long and drawn out), but he was not altogether disappointed. Bella met him by the door and he greeted her with a quick kiss to the forehead (a kiss that left both of them blushing...again).

They were such ridiculous children in love. Or, at least that was what Edward deluded himself into believing. Who really knew of the true extent of Bella's feelings? She kept her thoughts to herself and rarely did she allow someone the luxury of seeing inside her beautiful mind. Edward should've been honoured to even receive a kiss from her—a kiss that was one of the deepest and truest acts of her well-kept feelings.

"Good class?" Bella asked him as they journeyed to their joint seats. Edward grimaced.

"I couldn't concentrate very well." He peeked down at her from the corner of his eye. "Newton's back, you know." She met his stare with a touch of concern in her eyes. Did he really deserve these feelings? Edward didn't think himself worthy of them...but would he really be foolish enough to ever try to give them up? Surely he wasn't that stupid. Only selfish.

Only selfish.

"Is that why you couldn't concentrate?" She inquired softly. Edward only could keep his eyes on her—the others (the ones who continuously stared and wondered and were in shock, though probably appalled shock) could stare for as long as they pleased, so long as they didn't disturb Bella or him.

"No," Edward murmured, and blushed. Bella caught on and blushed too. The class started without a hitch. The teacher took only a second to observe their even closer contact than usual. He didn't seem altogether too surprised.

During the class, Edward casually rested his hand on Bella's knee. It was an involuntary reaction—if they were going to do things that they felt comfortable and natural with, then why not continue to do so the whole time?—, but Bella stiffened all the same the moment his hand came in contact with her jean-clad leg. She peeked up at him.

"Edward?"

Edward frowned for a moment before noticing his hand. He blushed darker—a colour that bordered on scarlet—and removed his hand instantly. He found himself missing the comfort of her presence under his fingertips.

"Sorry," He apologized.

"It's okay," She reassured him, with a sheepish grin and blood-rushed face. Edward tried to smile back, but he was too nervous for it to come out correctly. _Calm down, Edward,_ the spiders hissed in amusement, _isn't this supposed to be natural? If it is, then you're doing it all wrong._

The spiders were crawling back into his ears, their little legs tickling against his flesh, sending ripples down his spine. Edward froze in his seat, feeling the spiders lay their eggs in his cranium. They were whispering, whispering, whispering. Whispering words and sentences and paragraphs of hatred and confinement. He shivered.

_You stupid, stupid boy,_ they cackled, _how you continue to underestimate us and feel that useless emotion called hope. That spiteful emotion called love (the emotion that will be your undoing). Love is nothing. You are nothing as well, but that does not mean you go together._

"Edward?" Bella whispered softly, shaking his shoulder. Edward snapped out of his day-mare and released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His panicking eyes beheld Bella's concerned face.

"...I..." He couldn't choke out the words. "I...you...I'm..." But it was no use. The spiders were festering under his skin, planting themselves there permanently.

"It's alright," Bella said to the bronze-haired stuttering boy, keeping her voice too low for the teacher to hear, "Don't worry so much. I'm here. That much has to mean something, doesn't it?"

She was referring to the fact that she actually stuck around to help him. To another person, it might've been a low blow (to point out the fact that no one had really cared about Edward before), but Edward needed it. He needed to be reminded of the fact that someone _did_ care. He didn't really care about the fact that no one else did.

Bella clasped their hands together and entwined their fingers under the table, hidden from view. Her small though warm hand felt nice against his, Edward had to remark upon mentally. But was it worth it? Was leaving himself vulnerable worth it?

_Too late,_ the spiders murmured in the lowest of voices, _it's all too late for you._

...

The girl with the cocoa eyes and matching hair stared up at him with something akin to love in her eyes. But it wasn't love. It was merely concern, and warmth, and friendliness. She was misconstruing her feelings for him. He was sure about his, but he was certain that she wasn't about hers.

"Edward..." She said quietly as they stood outside in the rain, away from the school. It was lunch and they were on their way to the restaurant.

"Yes?" He murmured back, still unused to holding someone's hand while he walked.

"Do you really love me?"

He thought her question odd until he remembered back to the fateful day in the library, where he'd confessed to her in his sobs. He grimaced internally. That was not how he wanted his declaration of his love to be remembered. Nevertheless, what was done was done, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

And lying was not an option.

It never had been.

"Yes. Without question."

"Oh. Good." She smiled gently to herself and blushed harder than he'd ever seen her blush before. He felt a little awkward (but then again, when didn't he feel awkward?) but it wasn't such a bad thing. It felt good to have it out there, in the open.

Was it good? Really? Did being vulnerable suddenly sound like such a good thing? His whole life he'd _hated_ being so vulnerable.

"Umm...Edward..." It seemed like her speech was finished yet.

"Yeah?"

"I think I love you too."

Things changed rapidly after that.

...

A/N: I hope you people liked this chapter. I am on a temporary break as of...probably about a month ago, but I wanted to desperately write a new chapter for this story. I've been plenty busy with school lately (I'm in tenth grade, only fifteen) and writing my original stories. I finished my novel over the summer and I'm looking to get it published now, so I'm quite a bit too busy for mere Fanfiction.

What am I talking about? There's nothing _mere_ about Fanfiction. I'm being silly.

But in all actuality, I won't be updating much at all for the next little while. No one-shots or anything. Seriously, this chapter was also meant to inform you of my friend's new story, since I hate, hate, hate writing author's notes as full-fledged chapters. So no.

Anyway, bye.

-Breathless Tomb-


	12. Author's Note

The first and only author's note outside of a chapter that I will ever do:

Kay, it's official. I'm gone for good on this account. I'm older now (sixteen), and I've outgrown Twilight. It's been a nice run, for sure, but I'm totally done with it now. I won't say my stories are up for adoption—um...because they're not—, but I won't be completing them anytime soon. You were all amazing fans/reviewers and I treasure each of you, but I've moved on to different fandoms. I started a new account, though I won't mention it.

Some of you may be disappointed, others not, but this is for the best, you see. I have NO passion for Twilight left, I've actually come to dislike it quite some bit, for various reasons. My stories would completely and utterly suck if I kept trying to write. Fanfictions need passion and love for the fandom if they are ever to be completed and done well at that. I no longer have those two things.

I started this account when I was fourteen. It's been about two years since then, and I think this site has helped me grow so very much as a writer. I don't regret writing these stories. I probably never will, as much as they sometimes embarrass me.

Thank you again! I hope you have an amazing summer and…an amazing life? Since I'll probably never see you again?

Peace.

-Lia


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